Lost in You

by Lexi Blake

  The most bemusing part of all of it was the large costume cat head that completely hid the woman’s face, head, and neck. Like any good therapist who lived and worked in a sex club, Ariel had a vast knowledge of most kinks. Germany was the epicenter of furry culture. The Garden didn’t have any “furries,” as members of the community called themselves, in the club. While the woman wore a partial fur suit, her Dom wore a full suit that turned him into a towering gray wolf. He’d made some concessions in his attire—he’d taken off one paw glove, probably because he couldn’t hold that crop with it on.

  The crop struck the underside of the woman’s left breast. She yowled, a distinctly feline sound, then struggled against the restraints, hissing. The wolf reached out with his still-gloved hand and petted her from shoulder to waist. The cat calmed and relaxed back against the cross.

  She studied the couple, fascinated by the intimacy playing out in front of her. There was an artistry to any BDSM scene—even the furry ones. Maybe especially those. It took bravery and a deep sense of self to allow one’s fantasies to be played out in public. This couple obviously had an enormous amount of trust between them. It would be challenging for the Dom to read the submissive’s reaction when they weren’t speaking, and he couldn’t see her face or hands. There were plenty of BDSM masks or hoods that could be used in scenes, but those were usually formfitting to the sub’s head, and still offered the top some opportunity to read facial expressions. A good Dom or Domme could also read body language, but again, the hands were a key part of that—fists versus relaxed hands, fidgeting fingers versus clinging to ropes or restraints.

  Perhaps The Garden needed to invite a Furry Dom to teach an advanced class on reading a sub’s body language. She would enjoy that. Even experienced couples might find themselves at a loss if they were prevented from communicating via words, expression, or hand signals. Or perhaps this was more about creating a unique language that both parties understood, even if that language didn’t use words. Communication was key to BDSM play and—

  A hand wrapped around her waist from behind. Pure instinct moved her. She stepped back, using her shoulders to shove the person who’d touched her without permission. She brought her foot up and smashed it down, her heel to his toes. She twisted slightly and brought her elbow up and back, catching him in the solar plexus. He doubled over, and as she completed her turn to face him, she raised her arms, right hand wrapped over her left fist, prepared to smash the back of his head with her elbow.

  A familiar brown-haired man was doubled over, hands on his knees. Robert.

  She’d attacked Robert.

  She blinked and dropped her arms. Not only had she attacked him, she’d nearly incapacitated him. A friendly, approachable psychologist shouldn’t be able to take down a trained super-solider in hand to hand, especially when she was barefoot and wearing nothing but a corset and G string.

  “What the fuck?” Robert wheezed.

  She dropped to her knees beside him. “Rob, I’m sorry.”

  He sucked in air, then raised his bowed head enough to look at her. With her on her knees and him bent over, their faces were close together. Close enough that she could kiss him.

  “How did you…” He frowned at her, and Ariel’s stomach knotted.

  “Are you alright?” She’d acted purely on muscle memory. She hadn’t been thinking at all. She was on edge after the meeting with Kim and being forced to lie to Rob. “I’m sorry. I was watching a scene and you startled me.”

  A brow rose above his eyes. “I…startled…you, and you nearly put me on my ass?”

  There was another way to distract him. She was already on her knees, so she spread her legs, resting her hands palm up on her thighs. “I apologize, Sir.”

  “Is there a problem here?” Peter was in a set of dark brown leathers, showing off his lean and muscled frame and looking far from the mild-mannered tour guide he was during the daylight hours.

  Everyone was watching them. She’d interrupted the scenes. Damn it.

  “No, Sir. I was distracted when my Dom touched me, and I reacted.” She forced out a chuckle. “I was trained in self-defense by some of the best in the business, and I think I hurt him.”

  Robert got to his feet.

  Peter winced. “Ah, I see. Master Robert, do you need something? Ice?”

  “No ice.” He rubbed his stomach, then looked down at her. “Remind me to compliment whoever handled your self-defense training.”

  She straightened her back and lowered her gaze to Robert’s knees. “I will, Sir. I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m sorry for startling you, sweetheart.” Robert held out a hand. “And I’m sorry for disrupting the scenes, Master Peter. We’re a new couple and learning all sorts of things about each other. Come with me. I have our scene ready. I think my gorgeous sub here could use some stress relief. I know I could.”

  She placed her hand in his. Robert gripped her fingers and raised her to her feet. Awareness and desire, woken by that single touch, pushed away all of her previous worries. In his boots and leathers, Robert towered over her, broad and strong. She wanted to feel that strength, wanted him to use that big body to make her submit.

  And maybe, deep down, she wanted him to punish her for lying to him. Wanted him to offer her absolution through pain.

  “How about I greet you properly this time.” Robert slid one hand around the back of her neck, pulling her to his chest, then holding her still as he bent his head and kissed her.

  Her whole body went soft, molding against his. She wished she wasn’t wearing the corset. Wished he wasn’t wearing the leather vest.

  He deepened the kiss, nipping her lower lip then thrusting his tongue into her mouth. This was what she needed. She needed this man dominating her in the dungeon and being her partner in the outer world. She needed him by her side. She’d never really believed in the mystical, magical “one,” but this had to be what it felt like to find a missing piece of her soul.

  Robert broke the kiss, still holding her by the back of the neck, his thumb below her ear. “I’m going to push us tonight.”

  A thrill went through her at the thought of seeing where he would want to go. “Yes, Sir. I want that. I…I need it.”

  Because I’m lying to you.

  “I want to do things to you…” The words seemed to rip from him. “Things that are too hard. Too rough.”

  Robert taking her roughly. Robert letting go and unleashing on her. The thought of it made her ache with need. “I can take it.”

  “No, you’re soft.” His thumb stroked the skin of her neck below her ear. “You deserve to be worshiped.”

  “Worship doesn’t have to be soft. This is fantasy and I need it rough tonight.” Their bodies were still pressed together, and she felt his cock harden in his leathers. She rubbed her hips against him. “I want you to take me. Dominate me. Fuck me. Help me find the pleasure that can only come when I give up control. When I trust you with my body—” And my soul.

  He was waiting for her to finish, but she couldn’t say the last part out loud. When they got back to London, she was going to have a long talk with Damon. She needed to tell Rob everything, the whole story of her life so this lie wasn’t between them.

  She didn’t want to talk any more tonight. Her blood was humming, her skin tingling in anticipation of his touch, and she didn’t want to wait a second longer.

  Ariel slowly turned her head to the side, his hand sliding against her skin. She parted her lips and took the thumb that had been stroking her neck into the wet warmth of her mouth. She sucked on it the way she’d sucked at his tongue, the way she wanted to suck his cock.

  With his thumb still in her mouth she raised her gaze to meet his. His eyes were hazel and bright, focused on her with an intensity that made her want to push him further. She nipped him, hard enough that his nostrils flared. Then she drew back slowly, her lips sealed in a ring around his thumb as it slowly emerged from her mouth.

  “You’re deliberately b
eing a brat.”

  She tilted her head back, allowing his thumb to slide down her chin, then along the underside of her jaw, leaving a damp trail.

  “Please.” She didn’t want to talk. It was time to play, time to find the Ariel she could only be here and with him.

  He swooped down, planting a shoulder against her waist then straightening up. Her world upended and she braced her hands on his very nice, leather-covered ass as he strode across the dungeon floor. It was hard to compete with the furry scene, but she felt eyes on her as they went past, and that only added to her ever-heightening arousal.

  The world spun, and then she was standing, Robert’s hands on her waist keeping her steady until she found her balance. They were toward the back of the club, near a wall.

  They weren’t near any of the main pieces of equipment, but his kit was on the floor not far away.

  Robert took a step back, putting space between them but not distance. He’d only stepped back so he could watch her. “Take off your clothes. I want you naked.”

  She relaxed, grateful they’d moved past the time for questions. She reached for the closures on the front of the corset. The laces at the back allowed it to be adjusted and tightened, but the hook and eye closures on the front were how she actually put it on and took it off. She started at the bottom, undoing the lower third. Then she went to the top, sliding her thumbs under the corset and undoing the closures one by one. When there were only a few middle hooks holding the corset closed, she dropped her hands. She knew what she looked like—the top of the corset was flowered open, her breasts straining to be free. A triangle of skin between the top of her thong and the inverted V of the partially removed corset would also be visible, drawing his attention down to the scrap of fabric that concealed her pussy.

  She felt powerful, beautiful like this.

  “Spread your legs,” he commanded.

  She didn’t think, merely obeyed. She stepped wide to give him a better view of what he wanted.

  “You’re aroused. I can see how wet your pussy is. You soaked the fabric.” His voice was dark and deep.

  “I’m ready for you, Sir,” she murmured. Beyond ready. If he wanted to fuck her that minute, she could handle him. No one had ever gotten her ready for sex merely by being in her space.

  His gaze slid up her body to her face. “I assumed part of being ready meant obeying me.”

  She frowned. “Sir?”

  “I told you I want you naked. You’re gorgeous and wanton but you’re not naked.” His voice deepened. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Topping from the bottom.”

  She hadn’t thought of it that way, but he was right. She had been trying to tempt him. He knew her well.

  She released the last closures of the corset, letting it fall. Her breasts felt heavy with need. She drew her shoulders back, offering herself to him, begging him to touch her. “That wasn’t my intention, Sir.”

  “I think you’re lying to me.”

  Her breath caught, and the whole world seemed to freeze. She looked at him from beneath her lashes, but for once his face was unreadable.

  “Take off the panties,” he commanded. “And that’s two.”

  She stripped off the thong, losing a bit of her grace in her haste to obey. “Two what, Sir?”

  He stared at her, determination clear in his gaze. Robert was indulgent. In the vanilla part of their world, he would be gentle. A thrill went through her that he could let loose this piece of his soul. It was only for her. “My plans for you included a bit of pleasure, a bit of pain, but no true punishment. Now we have to talk about discipline.”

  She bowed her head submissively. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  “Are you?” He cupped her chin with his hand, forcing her head up. “I don’t think you are. I think you want…no, you need…something more tonight. I was going to give that to you, but now I’ll have to stop and punish you, too.”

  She winced. She had been topping from the bottom. “You’re…you’re right, Sir. I’m sorry.”

  “You thought I wouldn’t give you what you needed.”

  “You don’t see all the different parts of me. You think I’m made of glass or something. You don’t see the part of me that isn’t soft, the part that needs you to be rough.” She hadn’t realized how much she needed him to see past her outer trappings. His belief that she was soft had been the very reason he’d pushed her away before. She’d prayed after Toronto that he would see her differently.

  “You are soft. Wonderfully soft.” He palmed her breast.

  Thank god, he was finally touching her. Her skin sang wherever their skin met. That moment of relief changed to one of arousal when his thumbs danced over her nipple.

  “And I will worship you. I will worship you with my lips.” He kissed her forehead, then feathered a kiss over each cheek. “With my hands.” He squeezed her breasts. “With my teeth.” His lips trailed down her neck to her shoulder and he bit her, hard enough that she jumped.

  That flare of pain made her nipples tighten against his palms, sent a bolt of arousal through her.

  “I’ll worship you when I turn you over my knee and spank your ass. When I tease your clit or torture these sweet tits.” He released her breasts only to pinch her nipples, rolling and plucking. “I will worship you, but most of all, I will dominate you. When we’re playing, you will submit to me. You will trust me to give you what you need.”

  There was nothing she wanted more. She let her head fall back, exposing the line of her throat. “Yes, Sir. I trust you.”

  He brushed his lips over her skin, working his way from the notch in her collarbone up her neck. He nipped her chin before retreating. “Move against the wall.”

  She obeyed, taking small steps back until her shoulders hit the cool stone of the wall. She realized why he’d chosen this spot. There were chains bolted high on the wall dangling down, like some medieval dungeon.

  He took leather buckle cuffs from his kit and strode over to her. He crooked a finger and she held out her wrist. “I plan to keep you chained up all night. If your wrists start to hurt or the cuffs pinch, you will indicate so, either by telling me or by holding up three fingers.”

  He finished buckling her wrists into the restraints.

  A shiver of trepidation went through her. They were using nonverbal protocols? Was he going to gag her? It was surprising since Rob liked to talk. He was keeping her off balance, mindfucking her. Yeah, that did something for her, too.

  “Show me,” he demanded.

  She held up three fingers. He nodded in satisfaction, then took her cuffed wrist and brought it back against the wall. He used a carabineer to clip the cuff to a link of the dangling chain. When both hands were restrained against the wall, he stepped back, and she couldn’t mistake the look of deep satisfaction on his handsome face.

  She tested her bonds. Her arms weren’t raised overhead, which made sense if he planned to keep her like this for some time. Arms up was a tiring posture, and there was a limit to how long a sub could stay like that. Instead, he’d restrained her with her wrists level with her shoulders. She had some mobility, enough that when he stepped close again she was able to reach out just enough to brush his shoulder with her fingertips as he knelt.

  He spread her legs, wide enough that her pussy was open, vulnerable, but not so wide that she couldn’t maintain the posture, then added cuffs to her ankles, and attached those to two of the closest O-rings bolted into the bottom of the wall.

  She was utterly restrained, and he could do anything he liked with her. She wasn’t sure why this always did it for her, but it did. This had always been her fantasy and she’d long since given up on feeling anything so useless as shame about her sexuality.

  He paused, still on his knees before her, and brought his face close to her pussy. He breathed deep. “You’re hot, so ready for me.”

  “I am, Sir.”

  Robert went back to his kit and pulled out a large plastic bag. She blinked, staring at what he ha
d in his hands. Maybe it was the somewhat dim light of the dungeon, but that looked like a big bag of—

  “Clothespins.” Robert showed one of his prizes to her and one side of his mouth tugged up in the most heartbreaking grin. She loved his dirty Dom, but the playfulness got to her, too. “I was planning on using clamps on you, but I couldn’t decide what kind. Trust me. I’ve spent hours thinking about this. I couldn’t decide where I would put them.” He rattled the bag. “Now I don’t have to decide. I get to put them everywhere.”

  “Everywhere?” she asked.

  “Everywhere.” He opened the bag and clipped a dozen or so clothespins to the bottom of his vest.

  Ariel had a vivid memory of her mother doing the same, clipping clothespins to the bottom of her shirt so she could easily get them as she hung out the washing to dry.

  After tonight, she was sure she’d never be able to look at a clothespin without thinking about him.

  He held up one clothespin, a devilish smile quirking his lips. “Where to start?” He ran the tip of the pale wooden clothespin along the inside of one arm to her shoulder. She caught her breath as he hesitated at her breast, then let out a noisy sigh as he kept going, across the top of her chest to her other arm.

  He was the one teasing now. And it worked. She wanted that stupid clothespin. Her breasts ached with need.

  He repeated the motion, and this time she thrust her breasts toward him. He paused, the clothespin at her collarbone. “You want me to clamp your sweet nipples?”

  More than anything. “Yes, Sir. Please.”

  “What if I make you beg?”

  Begging wasn’t something she would do with anyone she didn’t trust. But here it was all simply part of the game. “Then I’ll beg. Please, Sir. Robert, please. I need you.”

  “It will hurt. This clothespin will bite down hard.”

  He was making her crazy talking like this. “I know, I know. I want it.”

  He trailed the clothespin down the center line of her body, between her breasts, over her bellybutton, to her pussy. “And what if I want to start here?”