by Lila Dubois
Trying to avoid that pain was why she’d gone to his island—hoping if she found closure, she wouldn’t spend years suffering from heartache. Desperation to get away before she crumbled was why she called for a helicopter.
The feelings didn’t come. It was almost as if the exhaustion she’d felt yesterday, followed by a night sleeping in his arms, had muted everything.
Or maybe seeing those four little letters changed things. He still loved her. Or loved her again.
Buoyed by some unknown combination of well rested, happy, and hopeful, Vivienne went into the bathroom. She found a stock of hygiene products, including a razor. A quick shower, without bothering to wash her hair, and she was ready. She’d dropped her bag when Nerio grabbed her, so there wasn’t much she could do to prep. She applied lotion everywhere, and touched up her hair with the comb, taming flyaways. All the exposure to salt air had given it a nice wave. Normally, she wouldn’t have dared go anywhere without at least a layer of tinted moisturizer and mascara on, but she was going to be more than physically naked with Solomon. She was going to be emotionally naked too. That’s what he could give her—complete release. That sense of being taken care of and known.
Most of all, he loved her. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t wearing makeup.
He loved you before. That wasn’t enough. And he might love you, but does he like you, respect you? He thinks you’re weak.
She winced, the note, which she’d picked up off the vanity, crumpling in her hand. Vivienne took those thoughts, locked them into a little box, and shoved it away at the back of her mind. She was sure they’d return during one of her early-morning anxiety attacks, but for now she reclaimed the calm she’d felt since the moment she woke up to his voice and kiss, his lingering scent on the mattress beside her.
Naked, she went in search of the clothing she was allowed to wear. With each step she took, heat built within her—it was the warmth of anticipation, and the slow burn of arousal. She wondered if he’d purposely used those words “allowed to wear” because he knew they would make her hot. Maybe he used them because he was already thinking and speaking like a Dom.
Like her Dom.
Her Master.
The tube dress was made of glossy black latex. A fat silver zipper ran from between the molded breast cups midway down the front. Heavy silver bracelets of wide-link chain, not unlike those Tiffany bracelets that had been both popular and eventually ubiquitous many years ago, rested beside the dress. There was also a simple black hair elastic, and a small silver cuff hair ornament.
Vivienne gathered up all the items, taking them to the bathroom. A panicked moment of searching in the drawers eventually yielded a small, unopened container of baby powder. She sighed in relief and sprinkled it inside the dress, then coated her legs and butt. Giving the powder time to soak in—latex clothes were incredibly easy to tear if you yanked—she turned to the rest of her preparation. Though the bracelets looked like statement jewelry, the extra large rings beside the clasp made it apparent they were to be used for bondage, though the fact that they were metal and didn’t have safety releases, meant they wouldn’t be used for anything extreme.
That was almost disappointing.
With the bondage bracelets weighing down her wrists, she gathered her hair up into a high ponytail, glad she hadn’t spent more time on it. Securing it with the elastic band, she then slid the cuff around the base of the ponytail which made it stick up off her head another inch. It was a style that was currently popular with one particular young singer, but the presence of the silver cuff added a sense of stereotypical, and inaccurate, harem girl.
Finally she added another quick dusting of baby powder to the inside of the dress, unzipped, and then stepped into it. The fit wasn’t perfect, as it hadn’t been custom made for her, but it did what it was meant to.
Vivienne zipped the dress closed before reaching down into the cups and adjusting her breasts. Then she took a dry washcloth and dusted away any remnants of the baby powder from the glossy exterior finish of the latex. She backed up and turned, examining herself from all sides.
Her body looked tightly held and constrained by the dress, though it was actually fairly comfortable, at least compared to the same effect yielded by a leather corset. With her hair up, her neck looked very pale and slender. She wished she had big silver earrings, and a blood red lipstick.
Instead her face was bare, which made her look younger. The dichotomy of her bare face and the obviously fetish outfit and hairdo, was erotic rather than unfinished.
She walked out of the bathroom, aware of the way the rough interior of the latex rubbed against her hard nipples, and the fact that her pussy was already damp with need.
Without hesitating she opened the door, expecting to see him waiting for her on the other side.
Instead there was another piece of paper taped to the wall opposite.
* * *
Meet me in the dungeon, and mind your manners.
Love,
Your Master
Solomon waited in shadow. He still didn’t trust Nerio as far as he could throw the other man—but the dude had very cool toys. A complete tour of the dungeon, and a tutorial on how to work the high-tech aspects, had been part of yesterday’s negotiation.
One such toy, and the first one Solomon had gotten to play with, was the app that controlled the lights and music in the fully integrated “smart” dungeon. Purple, pink, pale blue, and iridescent green lights flashed and danced in time with the thumping techno music. He’d engineered the light show to leave several areas of the dungeon in full darkness, one of which he was standing in. A spot of pink light slid across the floor several feet from his feet, briefly illuminating and then hiding a matte gray sawhorse, a glider, and then an eight-foot tall metal frame dripping with chain. The light paused for a moment before darting off in another direction.
Watching the lights could only distract him from the anxiety of waiting for so long.
She might not come, that miserable little voice in his head whispered. You hurt her. Or maybe you didn’t hurt her, and she’s just done with you. She’s ready for someone else, someone better. Someone stronger. Someone who is a real Dom.
His back teeth started to ache as he clenched his jaw. Solomon forced himself to relax before he broke a tooth. He was her Dom. Her Master, as he’d said in the note he left her.
He waited, as calmly as he could. Wearing nothing but a pair of leather pants—and unlike the leather style but made-of-cloth ones he wore in his dungeon, these really were leather—he crossed his arms over his bare chest. How long had it been since he’d had on a shirt? At some point this weekend, he really needed to put on a damn shirt. Or find something heavy to lift so his pecs looked better.
The dungeon doors opened. He saw her pause, though she was just a shadowed outline, given the bright sunlight that filled the small foyer behind her. He wasn’t close enough to see her expression, but he watched the line of her shoulders. She hadn’t hunch them anxiously, and they didn’t droop in disappointment.
She stayed in the doorway, and he could see her turning her head, trying to find him. Even if he hadn’t been in shadow, the light pattern he designed never illuminated anything for more than a moment.
Finally, she accepted that she was going to be walking in blind. Vivienne stepped into the dungeon and pulled the doors closed behind her.
He picked up the tablet, which he’d balanced on the top of a spanking bench, and used his body to shield the light from the screen so it wouldn’t draw her notice. He lowered the volume on the music and slowed the dizzying pace of the light show.
He waited for her to get accustomed to that, saw her once again looking for him. When the time felt right, he turned on a single spotlight. He grinned with satisfaction as she was suddenly haloed in a cone of bright white light, a moment of stillness among the shifting colors.
She looked slick and sexy in the latex, her hair gathered high on her head, but still long enough that
the ends brushed the top of her deliciously naked shoulders.
He double-checked the screen, then hit the play button, initiating a preset sequence of lighting changes.
A second still white spotlight, about five feet from where she currently stood, turned on. She slid her palms down the curve of her hips, then tapped her fingers on her thighs. Solomon realized she was nervous. Something inside him relaxed, his own nerves disappearing when he saw and sensed her uncertainty.
When the first spotlight began to dim, she finally moved, coming deeper into the dungeon until she stood beneath the second one. A moment later a third light switched on, even as the first went completely dark. Again she crept forward, advancing ever deeper into the dungeon with the lights as her guide.
Solomon started towards her, walking between pools of shadow as she moved from light to light. All doubts and uncertainty were gone, now that she was here.
She stopped under what he knew was that last spotlight. She’d ended up right where he wanted her.
Vivienne was looking around nervously, her palms sliding along the dark, glossy surface of her skirt. He’d turned down the volume of the music, but it was still loud enough to cover the sound of his footsteps. When he was in position, he stopped, mentally reviewing his plan for the scene, though this wasn’t going to be any kind of traditional BDSM play. That had been part of what Nerio had insisted on—a variety of play, focusing on intimacy and physical contact.
“I’m going to fuck you,” he stated from deep in the shadows.
Vivienne jumped, turning on one heel towards the sound of his voice. For a moment she searched the shadows, but then she lowered her gaze, her fingers still and calm at her sides.
“I want you to fuck me, Master.”
“Are you wet?” he demanded.
She shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Yes, Master.”
“Good.”
Solomon stalked forward, his cock, which had been semi-erect since the moment she arrived in the dungeon, hardening inside the restriction of the leathers.
Emerging from the darkness, he slid into the light. He knew when she saw him by the way she twitched, her spine straightening at the same time her shoulders relaxed.
Solomon moved like a train that was gathering speed. When she was within arms’ reach he didn’t pause, but grabbed her, lifting her off the floor, one arm around her waist, the other around the top of her thighs, under that sweet ass. He crushed her against his chest, her head higher than his, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, as he kept right on walking.
He lifted her higher and her breasts were near his mouth. He wasn’t one to let an opportunity pass him by.
Solomon buried his face in her cleavage, breathing in her scent, then turned his head and bit the inner curve of her left tit, just above the neckline of the dress he’d selected for her.
He felt rather than heard her gasp. Her fingers slid into his hair, and she tried to turn his head. He nipped her again, in the same spot. She whimpered and her fingers softened, the touch cajoling.
“Please, Master.”
“Please what?”
“Please bite me again, on the other breast.”
Solomon went lightheaded with the sudden rush of desire. Not just the physical desire to sink his cock deep into her warm body, but the desire to mark her, claim her.
He’d carried her no more than ten feet before they arrived at their destination—a section of wall padded with large dove-gray mats, similar to what could be found in a wrestling gym.
With more force than he ever would have used if the vertical surface weren’t padded, Solomon slammed her back against the wall. Vivienne yelped, fingers tightening painfully in his hair. Pinning her in place with his hips, Solomon grabbed her wrists, yanking them away from him and forcing her arms beside her head.
With quick, hard movements, he grabbed the dangling loops of black strapping he’d hooked into eye bolts near the juncture between wall and ceiling. She hadn’t moved her arms when he released her, and she didn’t resist when he slid the loops over her wrists. He stepped back, allowing her body to slide down the wall. She stood on toes, her arms raised but not fully stretched.
“Hold on,” he commanded. “I’m going to fuck you hard and fast.” He jerked on the laces of his leathers.
She made a little mewling noise of need. “That’s what I need. Please, please.”
“You’re missing a word.”
“Please, Master.”
He didn’t bother to push the pants down, merely opened the lace front fly enough to pull his cock out and roll on a condom. Dick leading the way, he grabbed her thighs, sliding his hands up, raising the hem of the short dress. For a moment it caught on the sweet curves of her ass, but then it gave up, yielding to his desire to expose her naked flesh.
Grabbing her hips, Solomon jerked her up. Her legs came around his waist without him having to issue the order, and in the next breath his cock slid down the valley of her pussy. He felt the nub of her clit as he grazed it with his dick, heard her gasp of pleasure even over the thrumming music. She was wet and ready, her pussy lips plump and warm as he positioned himself, ready to thrust into her.
Behind him the dungeon was a world of light and sound. He’d wanted to create the heart-racing, overwhelming, and darkly thrilling environment of a Berlin rave. They’d gone to one once, gotten caught up in the music and the darkness, and nearly fucked against the wall, before a bouncer threw them out.
He’d succeeded, at least partially, in recreating that moment. His plan had been to force her against this wall and fuck her hard and fast. To overwhelm her, take her quickly and aggressively, without the slow buildup that was typical of a BDSM scene.
Instead, time seemed to slow as he readied himself for that first thrust. The rest of the world faded away, the music forgotten as he listened to the sound of her breath, the lights no longer mattering as he closed his eyes and buried his face in the curve of her neck. The next moments played in slow motion. He hiked her hips higher, Vivienne arched her back, arms tense and breasts thrusting up and out. Solomon tightened his hold on her, fingers digging into her ass.
The moment crystallized and froze, as if they were trapped in amber. He inhaled, smelling the chemical scent of the latex, the soft feminine fragrance of either some lotion or perfume, and below that the earthy smell of her arousal and his own sweat.
Solomon thrust, forcing his cock deep into her warm, willing body.
The overwhelming perfection of the moment made him shiver, and then, as if their crystalline moment had been shattered by a hammer strike, the sense of stillness evaporated, burned away by the heat of their need.
“Again,” Vivienne demanded.
Solomon snarled soundlessly and bit her neck, a small punishment he softened when he licked and sucked the flesh between his teeth. He felt her arms strain as she pulled against the straps. Her heels dug into his ass, her chest rose and fell, breasts swelling temptingly above the neckline.
Solomon withdrew and thrust in again, her pussy so slick and hot that he knew he wouldn’t last if he kept going like this.
As tempting, as fucking hot, as the idea of finding his own satisfaction and then making her beg to come was, he wouldn’t do that. It would be hot, and in the long run she would enjoy it, but his whole plan hinged on him showing her he could, and more importantly would, take care of her.
With a strength of will and purpose he didn’t know he possessed, Solomon withdrew his cock from her warm pussy and dropped to his knees.
Hands under her ass, he guided her thighs onto his shoulders, and then buried his face in the slick folds of her sex.
She tasted warm and a bit salty. He sucked her mons into his mouth, testing her flesh with his teeth. When that wasn’t enough, he sucked, drawing blood to the already swollen and sensitized skin. Her hips shifted, her thigh muscles working as she tried to force her clit against his chin or mouth. He wouldn’t reward bad behavior so he turned his head, nipping her
thigh in warning. Over the thrum of the music he heard her whimper, but she stopped trying to take control, once more submitting, though he knew need and desire were riding her hard. It was the same for him, and his cock was starting to physically hurt he was so erect.
Relenting, for the sake of both their sanities, Solomon adjusted her position and dipped his tongue between her labia, finding her clit. The first pass of his tongue caused her to jerk, nearly unseating herself. He tightened his hold on her ass, forcing her hips back against the wall so she was pinned still like a captured butterfly.
Later there would be time to spread her open, to examine every sweet soft fold of her sex. But now it was about raw heat and desperate need. He buried his face in her pussy, swiped his tongue over her clit. Again and again he licked her with hard passes of the tip of his tongue. Soon she was jerking each time he did it, hips bouncing back against the wall. He knew her, knew her body. Those little jerks meant she was so sensitive that the hard flicks were actually too rough to make her come. Switching tactics, Solomon stuck out and flattened his tongue. Rather than lick, he moved his whole head up and down in a tiny nodding motion. The broad flat of his tongue rubbed up and down her clit, leaving no part of her untouched. For the first minute of this new technique she held perfectly still, though he could feel the trembling of her thigh muscles against his ears.
Again and again he rubbed his tongue, backed by his teeth, over her clit. Though he sensed she was trying, soon she wasn’t able to hold still. When she inhaled it was a gasp of pleasure, the exhale a moan of need. Soon her movements became frantic, as if she couldn’t help but lift her hips, and if he hadn’t held her tight, hands forcing her back against the wall, she would have bucked him off.
With her thighs around his ears, he couldn’t hear well, but even without her reedy, “I’m going to come, Master,” he knew when she was close. Knew in the way she suddenly held perfectly still and barely seemed to breathe.
Solomon slid his hands from her hips to her knees, jerking her legs open. He let her feet fall to the floor as he rose to stand. Panicked, wide eyes met his gaze. The tight latex was bunched around her waist, and her thighs glistened.
