The Only Time
Meet Your Master
Ms. Violette Smoque, sitting at her elegant vanity in black silk robe, swipes cream blush over her porcelain cheeks and blends it in. She then proceeds to do the rest of her make-up: a cat eye with raven eye liner; matte crimson lips; long, curled lashes. Violette then lets down her hair; her soft, ink-like curls free-fall to their resting place against her back and over her breasts.
Suddenly, her phone rings. The synthesizer breakdown from “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails blasts from the speakers on the Lumia 928. She answers, with a simple, “hello.”
“I have a client for you,” the voice on the other line says.
“Who is it?” She asks seductively, trying to get the name out of the man’s mouth.
“Ah, Violette, you know that’s not how this works. The name is kept secret. I just give you the address and then you work your magic on the fella.”
A smile brightens across Ms. Smoque’s face. “Ha! So it’s a man!”
The Man on the other line clears his throat, trying to stifle laughter. “I wouldn’t necessarily say that he’s a man.”
“Well, what’s that supposed to mean?” Violette huffs, pouting her lip.
“I’ve got to go, Violette,” he tells her. “I’ll text you the address.”
The line goes dead and Violette leans back in her chair, sighing. This whole “surprise” business is really getting old. Other women in this profession know exactly who they are seeing when they go to the address. Just then, a ding comes from the phone and the address pops up.
“Ooh, a hotel, really original.” She rolls her eyes and finds the courage to stand up and get dressed. Violette removes her robe and changes into a short turtleneck dress with the shoulders cut out. She adds some jewelry—single black hoops and a black rose cross necklace. Finally, she straps on her clunky—yet irresistibly sexy—boots.
As Violette grabs her purse, the contents fall to the floor. “Shit!” She says as she drops to her knees to clean up to the mess. She then finds a vile of white powder. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she murmurs. She slides a credit card out of her wallet and pours the powder out on her desk. She escorts it into two lines and then—with a straw—snorts the drug into her system.
Violette climbs into her turquoise 1964 Cadillac Eldorado to drive to the hotel. On the way over, she begins to think about her life. She is twenty-one, addicted to cocaine, drinking on a regular basis and she is a dominatrix. How the hell did I get here? She thinks to herself. And where do I go from here?
Violette puts on large circular sunglasses—black of course—and enters the hotel. She checks in at the front desk and rides the elevator up to the top floor. Her large boots clack against the carpet as she makes her way down to the room. She finally reaches it. Violette knocks first but then remembers she has a key.
“Hello?” She calls out as she enters the room.
A tall, young man is standing there in black basketball shorts, an Adidas hoodie and a black and red snapback. Violette notices a birthmark on his Adam’s apple. She realizes who it is and her eyes widen; Liam Payne from One Direction?
He smiles nervously. “Ms. Violette Smoque?”
“That’s me,” Violette says calmly, fiddling about in her purse. “Where’s the money?”
“Oh, right!” The young man says, jumpily. He reaches for his wallet and pulls out a wad of $100 bills. “Here you go,” he says, holding out his shaking hand.
“Oh honey, this really must be your first time,” Violette says with a kind chuckle. “Never give your money to a dom before you’ve received your services.” She places her hand on his and curls the money into his hand. “Just set it on the bedside table. I’ll get it when we’re done.” Violette winks at him.
“Alright…” Liam says. “How do we get started?”
He is so cute! Violette thinks to herself. “Well get undressed and lie down on the bed.” Violette then takes off her dress to reveal a black leather corset. She takes out silk hand and ankle restraints and a whip from her “goodie bag.” Violette takes a quick peek at Liam’s butt out of the corner of her eye and nods in satisfaction. She likes the look of this heart throb.
Once Liam is naked on the bed, Violette straddles him, and begins tying his wrists to the bed posts. Trying to stay clandestine, Violette pushes her breasts in Liam’s face and she feels a bump form between Liam’s legs. She blushes and climbs off of him. She ties his ankles and then grabs her flogger.
“Shall we begin?” Violette whispers, leaning in close to Liam and stroking his cheek with the flogger. “I see you’re already standing… erect.” Violette raises an eye brow.
“Uh, yes,” Liam says with eagerness. He smiles weakly and Violette knows she has him right where she wants him: on his knees—figuratively speaking.
She stands back and raises the flogger and before Liam can back out, she strikes it against his abdomen as hard as she can. “Who’s your master?” She bellows out.
Liam instinctively cringes and tries to move away from the forceful whip but the restraints are too tight. When the screaming pain beings to cease, Liam realizes the words that just were released from Ms. Smoque’s lips. “Wh-what?” He asks.
“I said...” She whips him again with a proud smile on her face, “…Who is your master?” She whips him once more.
It finally clicks in Liam’s head. These are how these things are supposed to go! Liam bends his knees, getting ready for the next blow. “You are,” he says in a low and cold voice.
As Violette hits him again, she yells out, “And who deserves to be punished?”
Liam props himself on his elbows and screams, “I do!”
Violette continues to whip Liam for some time and he finds it surprisingly soothing. He is being put in his place by a strong, independent and sexy woman who doesn’t seem fazed at all by who he is. That turns him on so hard. With being so popular and successful, he needs to be reminded where he comes from and who he actually is. And he thinks Ms. Violette Smoque is just that thing to do that for him.
When every square inch of Liam’s abdomen and thighs are bright red, Violette ceases her whipping. She climbs back on top of the pop star and begins kissing him romantically—not something she has ever done before, but there is something about him that is just too enticing.
Their warm tongues play back and forth as Violette runs her shiny black stiletto finger nails through Liam’s hair. His eyes roll back into his head as his mind begins to swim with ecstasy.
“Want stay for a little while longer?” Liam suggests, smiling and breaking the lip lock.
“I’ve really got to go,” Violette says, not wanting to form any attachments. That’s a rookie mistake.
“I could pay you more,” Liam says, kissing Violette.
Violette pulls away. “Oh, Mr. Liam Payne, I am not a prostitute. I just simply provide painful pleasure to anyone with the money for it.” She pokes his nose with a chuckle. She then reaches for her boot, pulling out a syringe.
“What’s that?” Liam asks, not panicked at all.
“Oh, nothing, just a little love potion. It really gets the juices flowing, if you know what I mean.” She winks at him. Violette then takes the cap off and shoves the needle into Liam’s neck.
His eye widen as the drug begins to work its magic. He begins to lose control and feeling in his appendages. Liam tries to sit up but only makes it a few centimeters off the bed and then he crashes back onto the mattress. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion.
“Don’t panic,” Violette says, as she puts her dress back on. “It’s only temporary—I use it all the time. You’ll sleep for a few hours and then wake up and to being your perfectly adorable self.” Violette takes off the restraints and walks over to stand next to Liam. “Thanks for all the fun, sweetie pie.” She kisses him, running her tongue across his lips. “Call me anytime.” Violette picks up the money on the night stand and leaves her card where the money was.
As she picks up her purse, she is reminded by the little devil on her shoulder of her hankering for cocaine. She pulls out the vile once more, taps the contents out on Liam’s perfectly sculpted abdomen and snorts it.
Putting on her large sunglasses, Violette exits the hotel room. She hears commotion to her right, she looks up to find the rest of One Direction stopped in their tracks at the sight of a woman like her stepping out of Liam’s room.
“Who are you?” Harry asks, stepping forward with much concern across his face.
“Well, hello there,” Violette says, strutting toward the four young men. “You must be… the rest of One Direction. I’m Ms. Violette Smoque.” She holds out her hand but no one takes it.
“Nice shoes,” Niall points out, looking down at Violette’s impressive boots. “How do you walk in them?”
“With much—“ Violette begins.
“—Niall!” Zayn interjects. “How did you get a key and why are you in Liam’s room?”
“You’re just going to have to ask him…” Violette begins to turn away but Louis grabs her shoulder.
“Not good enough,” Louis says flatly, crossing his arms. “What were you doing in Liam’s room?”
Violette has never been caught in the act like this before. What is she supposed to say? What she does with her clients is confidential. But she has no other choice. “I’m a dominatrix,” she says with a sigh.
“Come again?” Niall asks. Now all their arms are cross over their chests.
“Ugh, looks like I’m going to have to break this down for you. Liam paid me,” she holds up the money, “to whip him,” she makes a whip cracking motion, “for sexual pleasure,” she makes an up and down motion with her hand.
“WHAT?” They all say in unison.
“Liam!” Harry calls out, running toward the door.
“Uh, he’s asleep right now. I kind of drugged him. Good-bye!” Violette gives them all a quick smile and then she makes her way toward the elevator, not looking back.
Suddenly, her phone rings. The synthesizer breakdown from “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails blasts from the speakers on the Lumia 928. She answers, with a simple, “hello.”
“I have a client for you,” the voice on the other line says.
“Who is it?” She asks seductively, trying to get the name out of the man’s mouth.
“Ah, Violette, you know that’s not how this works. The name is kept secret. I just give you the address and then you work your magic on the fella.”
A smile brightens across Ms. Smoque’s face. “Ha! So it’s a man!”
The Man on the other line clears his throat, trying to stifle laughter. “I wouldn’t necessarily say that he’s a man.”
“Well, what’s that supposed to mean?” Violette huffs, pouting her lip.
“I’ve got to go, Violette,” he tells her. “I’ll text you the address.”
The line goes dead and Violette leans back in her chair, sighing. This whole “surprise” business is really getting old. Other women in this profession know exactly who they are seeing when they go to the address. Just then, a ding comes from the phone and the address pops up.
“Ooh, a hotel, really original.” She rolls her eyes and finds the courage to stand up and get dressed. Violette removes her robe and changes into a short turtleneck dress with the shoulders cut out. She adds some jewelry—single black hoops and a black rose cross necklace. Finally, she straps on her clunky—yet irresistibly sexy—boots.
As Violette grabs her purse, the contents fall to the floor. “Shit!” She says as she drops to her knees to clean up to the mess. She then finds a vile of white powder. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she murmurs. She slides a credit card out of her wallet and pours the powder out on her desk. She escorts it into two lines and then—with a straw—snorts the drug into her system.
Violette climbs into her turquoise 1964 Cadillac Eldorado to drive to the hotel. On the way over, she begins to think about her life. She is twenty-one, addicted to cocaine, drinking on a regular basis and she is a dominatrix. How the hell did I get here? She thinks to herself. And where do I go from here?
Violette puts on large circular sunglasses—black of course—and enters the hotel. She checks in at the front desk and rides the elevator up to the top floor. Her large boots clack against the carpet as she makes her way down to the room. She finally reaches it. Violette knocks first but then remembers she has a key.
“Hello?” She calls out as she enters the room.
A tall, young man is standing there in black basketball shorts, an Adidas hoodie and a black and red snapback. Violette notices a birthmark on his Adam’s apple. She realizes who it is and her eyes widen; Liam Payne from One Direction?
He smiles nervously. “Ms. Violette Smoque?”
“That’s me,” Violette says calmly, fiddling about in her purse. “Where’s the money?”
“Oh, right!” The young man says, jumpily. He reaches for his wallet and pulls out a wad of $100 bills. “Here you go,” he says, holding out his shaking hand.
“Oh honey, this really must be your first time,” Violette says with a kind chuckle. “Never give your money to a dom before you’ve received your services.” She places her hand on his and curls the money into his hand. “Just set it on the bedside table. I’ll get it when we’re done.” Violette winks at him.
“Alright…” Liam says. “How do we get started?”
He is so cute! Violette thinks to herself. “Well get undressed and lie down on the bed.” Violette then takes off her dress to reveal a black leather corset. She takes out silk hand and ankle restraints and a whip from her “goodie bag.” Violette takes a quick peek at Liam’s butt out of the corner of her eye and nods in satisfaction. She likes the look of this heart throb.
Once Liam is naked on the bed, Violette straddles him, and begins tying his wrists to the bed posts. Trying to stay clandestine, Violette pushes her breasts in Liam’s face and she feels a bump form between Liam’s legs. She blushes and climbs off of him. She ties his ankles and then grabs her flogger.
“Shall we begin?” Violette whispers, leaning in close to Liam and stroking his cheek with the flogger. “I see you’re already standing… erect.” Violette raises an eye brow.
“Uh, yes,” Liam says with eagerness. He smiles weakly and Violette knows she has him right where she wants him: on his knees—figuratively speaking.
She stands back and raises the flogger and before Liam can back out, she strikes it against his abdomen as hard as she can. “Who’s your master?” She bellows out.
Liam instinctively cringes and tries to move away from the forceful whip but the restraints are too tight. When the screaming pain beings to cease, Liam realizes the words that just were released from Ms. Smoque’s lips. “Wh-what?” He asks.
“I said...” She whips him again with a proud smile on her face, “…Who is your master?” She whips him once more.
It finally clicks in Liam’s head. These are how these things are supposed to go! Liam bends his knees, getting ready for the next blow. “You are,” he says in a low and cold voice.
As Violette hits him again, she yells out, “And who deserves to be punished?”
Liam props himself on his elbows and screams, “I do!”
Violette continues to whip Liam for some time and he finds it surprisingly soothing. He is being put in his place by a strong, independent and sexy woman who doesn’t seem fazed at all by who he is. That turns him on so hard. With being so popular and successful, he needs to be reminded where he comes from and who he actually is. And he thinks Ms. Violette Smoque is just that thing to do that for him.
When every square inch of Liam’s abdomen and thighs are bright red, Violette ceases her whipping. She climbs back on top of the pop star and begins kissing him romantically—not something she has ever done before, but there is something about him that is just too enticing.
Their warm tongues play back and forth as Violette runs her shiny black stiletto finger nails through Liam’s hair. His eyes roll back into his head as his mind begins to swim with ecstasy.
“Want stay for a little while longer?” Liam suggests, smiling and breaking the lip lock.
“I’ve really got to go,” Violette says, not wanting to form any attachments. That’s a rookie mistake.
“I could pay you more,” Liam says, kissing Violette.
Violette pulls away. “Oh, Mr. Liam Payne, I am not a prostitute. I just simply provide painful pleasure to anyone with the money for it.” She pokes his nose with a chuckle. She then reaches for her boot, pulling out a syringe.
“What’s that?” Liam asks, not panicked at all.
“Oh, nothing, just a little love potion. It really gets the juices flowing, if you know what I mean.” She winks at him. Violette then takes the cap off and shoves the needle into Liam’s neck.
His eye widen as the drug begins to work its magic. He begins to lose control and feeling in his appendages. Liam tries to sit up but only makes it a few centimeters off the bed and then he crashes back onto the mattress. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion.
“Don’t panic,” Violette says, as she puts her dress back on. “It’s only temporary—I use it all the time. You’ll sleep for a few hours and then wake up and to being your perfectly adorable self.” Violette takes off the restraints and walks over to stand next to Liam. “Thanks for all the fun, sweetie pie.” She kisses him, running her tongue across his lips. “Call me anytime.” Violette picks up the money on the night stand and leaves her card where the money was.
As she picks up her purse, she is reminded by the little devil on her shoulder of her hankering for cocaine. She pulls out the vile once more, taps the contents out on Liam’s perfectly sculpted abdomen and snorts it.
Putting on her large sunglasses, Violette exits the hotel room. She hears commotion to her right, she looks up to find the rest of One Direction stopped in their tracks at the sight of a woman like her stepping out of Liam’s room.
“Who are you?” Harry asks, stepping forward with much concern across his face.
“Well, hello there,” Violette says, strutting toward the four young men. “You must be… the rest of One Direction. I’m Ms. Violette Smoque.” She holds out her hand but no one takes it.
“Nice shoes,” Niall points out, looking down at Violette’s impressive boots. “How do you walk in them?”
“With much—“ Violette begins.
“—Niall!” Zayn interjects. “How did you get a key and why are you in Liam’s room?”
“You’re just going to have to ask him…” Violette begins to turn away but Louis grabs her shoulder.
“Not good enough,” Louis says flatly, crossing his arms. “What were you doing in Liam’s room?”
Violette has never been caught in the act like this before. What is she supposed to say? What she does with her clients is confidential. But she has no other choice. “I’m a dominatrix,” she says with a sigh.
“Come again?” Niall asks. Now all their arms are cross over their chests.
“Ugh, looks like I’m going to have to break this down for you. Liam paid me,” she holds up the money, “to whip him,” she makes a whip cracking motion, “for sexual pleasure,” she makes an up and down motion with her hand.
“WHAT?” They all say in unison.
“Liam!” Harry calls out, running toward the door.
“Uh, he’s asleep right now. I kind of drugged him. Good-bye!” Violette gives them all a quick smile and then she makes her way toward the elevator, not looking back.
Notes
So this my first ever 1D smut story. I'm really excited about this one. Ms. Violette Smoque was inspired by Irene Adler from Sherlock. Hope you enjoyed it! And if you have a request, just message me or go to my ask box on Tumblr (http://kissing-inthe-dark.tumblr.com).Violette's Outfit: http://www.polyvore.com/dominatrix_outing/set?id=90325354
Title Credit: "Meet Your Master" by Nine Inch Nails
-DestroyShelbeyy
I love these! You're an amazing writer! (:
5/4/16