For the darkship prompt meme, prompt " tie me up, take me down"

Tess thinks she's dominating Zod but as with all their power plays, Zod's submission has been freely given, not coerced. He will enjoy this game – for now.

"There's nothing more attractive to a woman than a strong man made weak," Tess said.

"Is that so?"

She paced around the bed, a riding crop slapping one palm.

"He should be strong, for that is the only kind of man worth having," Tess said. "And ideally he should be weak merely from desire for her, to serve her. In the absence of such overwhelming devotion, however, other means of bringing him low can be employed."

Zod, naked, tugged at the handcuffs that were keeping him chained to the headboard. "Like these?"

Tess smiled. "Exactly."

She was dressed in a white, low-cut blouse, a tight pale green skirt, and dangerously high heels. The heels sounded against the floor with every step she took, a steady beat against the counterpoint of the crop against her skin.

She paused at the head of the bed and ran the tip of the riding crop along Zod's shoulder, down the centre of his chest, over the tender flesh of his belly. His breath hitched as she moved the rod lower, exploring his exposed groin. He wanted her warm fingers on his body, not the rough leather of the crop and she knew it.

"You will control yourself," Tess ordered. "You will not come until I allow it. Or you will be punished."

She lashed out, and the crop struck his upper thigh. Zod winced.

"Bitch," he said through gritted teeth.

This only made Tess smile all the wider. "I've barely begun," she said. "Soon, you will kneel before me, Zod."

Zod regarded her through hooded eyes. "I will not break so easily."

She shrugged. "I would expect nothing less."

Whether she could break him remained to be seen, but Zod was willing to play the game. Most earth women were weak; physically, emotionally, spiritually. Not Tess. She was fierce, courageous - and vindictive.

Tess bent over and took one of his nipples into her mouth. Zod closed his eyes in pleasure as she suckled him, her tongue teasing the delicate bud. Then his eyes flew open as she unexpectedly bit down.

"Whore," he bellowed.

Tess laughed, taking a step away from him. "That's more like it. Show me what you're made of."

He tugged uselessly at the cuffs, the metal digging into his wrists. "When I am free of these restraints I will show you exactly who I am and what I am capable of."

"Promises, promises." Tess had to know what a dangerous game she was playing; that she continued to play made him desire her even more.

"You will feel my wrath," Zod swore.

"Just your wrath?" she leaned over once more and kissed him. He behaved nicely and so did she; there was no biting, no teeth grazing at lips or tongue. When she pulled back, she hesitated, the crop half-raised.

"Don't stop," Zod said. "I would have no respect for you at all if you censor yourself now."

With a curt nod, Tess hit him, the crop raising a welt on his other thigh. "You will respect me," she said. "Call me mistress."

"Yes, Mistress." He made the title sound like an insult but Tess ignored his tone.

"Are you ready to please me?"

"No," Zod said, revelling in his defiance.

Tess sighed. "Perhaps you need time to reconsider."

To Zod's mounting fear and anger, Tess walked away, closing the door behind him. He yelled for her, but to now avail. He had no choice but to wait for her return. His arms were soon aching from the awkward position he was handcuffed in, and any shift in position he made to ease the weight on his spine sent shooting pains through them. His bare skin cooled quickly without Tess's presence to anger and arouse him and he suppressed a shiver. The bruises she'd inflected throbbed dully but he could nothing to soothe the damaged flesh.

In an effort to distract himself, Zod thought about all the things he'd do to Tess in retaliation - but he had to admit that he was not only surprised but pleased by her ingenuity. For her to do nothing but leave him here, exposed and vulnerable, was a more exquisite torture than to continue abusing him with the crop.

He finally drifted into an uneasy sleep, woken only by her return. He had no idea how long she'd been gone, for the blinds were shut and no clock was in sight.

"Do you wish to be free of those cuffs?" Tess asked.

"Yes," he said, amending quickly, "Yes, Mistress."

She smirked and then bent over and released him. He sat up slowly, rubbing at his stiff muscles. She discarded the cuffs and gave him a brief respite to recover, all the time tapping the crop against the palm of her outstretched hand.

"Get up," she said at last. No sooner was he on his feet through, she was prodding him with the crop.

"Kneel before me, Zod," she said triumphantly.

He could have refused, of course, but this was part of the game and he was enjoying himself on some level. Besides, he was giving her chance to dominate him, a position of power which she'd regret later, for the fall she'd suffer afterwards would be that much further from this dizzy height and would therefore hurt her more. And he would enjoy her hurt.

So Zod obediently knelt on the polished parquet floor, hands on his knees, head bowed in submission. Tess used the hand with the riding crop in it to nudge her skirt upwards. Her free hand she wound into his hair, pulling him towards her.

"You will pleasure me as you have never pleasured a woman before," she ordered.

She was wearing no panties, and Zodd could smell the feminine scent of her. His tongue, used to rousing emotions by his words with promises of power or pain, now wrought pleasure by action of a different sort.

Tess gripped his hair harder as he worked. He wished he could see her expression, head thrown back, face contorted with pleasure, her precious self-control cast aside for him. She thought she was dominating him, but in truth, wasn't he the one in control? Wasn't she at his mercy now as he worked, wasn't he the one who chose where to tease and caress, when to lick and when to suckle?

Tess climaxed finally, her entire body shaking, legs trembling, hand tugging fiercely at his hair. The crop slipped from her grasp, her palms sweaty.

"Zod," she said huskily. He got to his feet and kissed her, hard enough to bruise her lips.

Next time he'd tie her down, Zod thought. Next time she'd pleasure him.

Next time, she'd kneel before Zod.