by Renee Rose
A beautiful woman kneels, her buttocks a perfect heart, already tinged pink from her Master’s hand.
“I do.”
“Will you get down on your knees for me?” He meets my eyes, a powerful stare. “If I tell you to do it?”
I can’t look away. “Yes.” I blink rapidly and drink more champagne.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs. “I imagine you’d do it right now if I asked, here at the bar. Am I correct?” He raises a brow.
I put the glass down a little too hard on the counter, a ping of crystal on marble. “Locke?” My whole body trembles with anticipation.
“Simple question, Temi.”
I nod, my head jerking a bit with adrenaline.
He frowns, so I quickly add, “Yes.”
“Excellent.”
“If you’ve finished your drink?” He raises a brow, looks at my empty glass. “Shall we?”
He holds out a hand.
I hesitate for one split second, then give myself over to him. “Let’s go.”
I assume he’s going to sweep me up and take me to one of the stations around the room that promise both punishment and pleasure, but we simply stand there while he holds my fingers in his, the grasp loose enough so I could pull free—if I wanted.
“This place,” he says, letting go of my hand and circling my small wrist with his much longer fingers, is a place of escape.”
I glance again at the woman bound to the cross, her wrists and ankles fastened firmly with strong leather, unable to get away.
“For some, the escape is in the capture, no?” He runs a finger up the inside of my wrist, along the sensitive skin, and I shudder at the way it both tickles and arouses.
“I suppose.” I’m fascinated with the people here; they’ve completely shed any societal inhibitions about what’s appropriate in company, and their enjoyment seems likewise elevated to astronomical levels.
“And we mustn’t forget about the power of anticipation.” His fingers tease my wrist again, then move to my waist. “Isn’t that right?”
“I… yes, I think so.” I swallow and look up at his face.
His expression is wicked, full of teasing pleasure. His fingers splay out across my hip for a second, then he raises his hand to stroke my flat belly through the fabric of the gown. “Just thinking about what will happen, Temi, doesn’t it make your mind race? Your body come alive?” He taps his fingertips against my belly a few times, then runs his hand up my side, stopping just short of my breast. “Wondering what I’ll do first, how I’ll touch you, how I’ll bring pleasure. It must surely be on your mind.”
“It is.” I gasp a little bit, the tiniest bit, as he runs his hand boldly over the front of my body, softly squeezing my left breast. “Locke.”
“Would I, for instance, start to remove your clothing right here?” He says it into my ear softly, and flicks at the back of my gown. “Pull down this fabric and expose your pretty tits to everyone in the room?”
“I….” I’m dizzy with exhilaration and anticipation.
He tugs down the zipper at the back of my gown, a few inches, enough to release the tight hold the fabric has on my chest. “Look how your breasts are so eager to meet the air. My mouth.” He pulls hard enough to tug the dress down over my breast, and then his mouth is on my nipple. He sucks, bites.
I cry out a little; people look—I can see them turn, eager interest in their eyes behind the masks. Although most of my attention is on Locke and what he’s doing, I’m not accustomed to having people watch my intimate moments, and it’s a little unnerving.
I automatically move to pull up my dress.
“No.” His voice is firm. “Leave it down. Let everyone see how your nipple is wet from my mouth, and tight as a berry from your passion. I want them to see you undressing for me, piece by piece, at my command. Doing my bidding.” He looks into my eyes. “Understand?” He raises a brow.
I nod, giddy energy filling me completely. “Yes.”
“Yes, Sir.” He reaches out and squeezes my nipple.
“Ouch.” I blink at him, but he doesn’t let go. Then I realize. “Yes, Sir.” I lower my eyes.
“Good girl.” He squeezes a little harder, then releases me. “You may take down the other side of your dress. Let’s make sure both of your pretty tits are on full view.”
I struggle a little to pull the fabric down, but it only takes a minute. With the dress just below my bust, both of my breasts are pushed up, almost as if I’m wearing a kind of corset.
“Ah, now that’s better.” He reaches down and takes a handful of my flowing skirt. “Let’s see about this, shall we?”
He pulls the fabric up, higher and higher, until my thigh is exposed, and then my buttock. He wraps the cloth around one arm and pulls me to his body, so my back is against his chest, my legs spread a little.
He reaches down casually between my thighs and strokes me over my panties. “Already wet, you naughty girl. You’ve soaked these.” He tsks. “Open your mouth.”
I do, and he sticks his fingers in. “Suck.”
I taste my own essence, mildly, though—my panties may be wet, but the amount of moisture on his fingers is negligible.
“Perhaps I’ll have a taste, too.” He reaches down again, and this time, as he strokes, he allows his fingers to stray below the fabric of my panties.
I gasp and wriggle.
“Stay still,” he orders, doing it again.
He brings his fingers to his mouth. “Mmm…. delectable. And you’re getting wetter by the moment. Let’s take these panties off so everyone can see how wet you are for me, my sweet little toy.”
“I…”
“Temi?” His voice is firm. He releases me so I can do his bidding.
As if in a trance, I reach down and slide the fabric down my thighs, then kick it off my heels. He picks up the garment and tucks it into a pocket, then pulls my dress back up to expose my newly naked pussy. He smacks my sex once with the flat of his hand—not hard, but I’m moist and it makes a wet sound, and I gasp, startled. People look over at the commotion.
So here I am, my breasts on full display, my moist pussy exposed for all to see. A couple at the bar looks over and smiles; the man whispers something into his partner’s ear and she giggles, turns pink. I flush hard. I can see the desire in their faces, but the abasement of standing here nearly nude, obeying Locke’s commands—it’s new to me. Strange. Embarrassing. But I make no move to end this—it’s like I’m locked in by my own desire.
“Look at you, my pretty little fuck toy, doing what I say, when I say it,” he murmurs into my ear. “Everyone here knows that you’re mine, and you’ll do my bidding. How do you like that?”
Without waiting for an answer, he takes my hand. “Now we’ll go pick out some toys to use on you.” He chuckles. “This part will be more fun for me, at least at first.” He looks back at me.. “Hold that skirt up, Temi. I want everyone to see your nice wet pussy, and how you can’t wait for me to play with you. Nice and high, that’s right.”
I flush and hesitate, my hand on the fabric. It’s not like anyone here isn’t on display themselves, but the newness of the game creates a mixture of desire and reluctance that is a heady concoction.
“You know I’ll have to punish you if you disobey,” he murmurs, leaning in and biting my lobe. “And that’s before we start the real games, my dear.”
“I…”
“Maybe I’ll sit down right here,” he points at a settee, “and spread your legs wide on my lap, and spank your pussy until you cry and beg for forgiveness?”
“Locke!” I grab his hand.
“Then do what I asked, hmmm?” He nods to my dress.
I pull it up fast, as high as I can, ensuring my pussy is clearly exposed. “Like this?”
“Good.” He nods and smiles. “But I think you’ll get a few pussy spanks anyway for taking your time. It’s important to do things right away when you’re told.”
Without further warn
ing, he takes me over to the settee in question and settles himself down, legs spread a bit. “Come on, then, Temi. Sit on my lap.” He pats his thighs. “Legs across mine, dress up, so that pussy is nice and exposed.”
“But I…” I glance around. I wanted to be here. I like what he’s doing. It’s just so… sudden.
“Extra for making me wait.” He frowns. “If I have to do it for you, I’ll give you a little nipple punishment before we start as well.”
“But I—”
“Your choice.” He pulls me to him with such grace that I feel like I’m a flamenco dancer about to do a twirl. In a second, I’m sitting across his lap with my back to his chest, one thigh slung over each of his legs, my dress still hiked up.
He bends his head and his breath is hot on my neck. “Ah, my sweet student needs to learn obedience. The most fun lesson to teach, in my opinion. But I’m here to help.”
He reaches down and strokes my inner thighs, making little circles with his fingers. “Tonight, you’ll learn that I prefer to be a very strict professor.”
Chapter 8
I make a small noise and push my hips up, trying to entice his fingers closer. But he just teases me, letting them get so close I’m sure he’s going to touch my pussy, then backing away.
When I can’t take it anymore, he seems to sense it: he taps my pussy softly with his index finger, then pushes, just a little.
I squirm and sigh. “Locke.” Then I make a sound of irritation as he stops what he’s doing.
“Keep those legs nice and wide, hmmm?”
Before I realize what he’s about to do, he slaps my pussy—a nice, hard smack with his open palm.
I squeal and clench my muscles, attempting to close my legs, but he’s got them firmly over his.
“What did I tell you?” He waits for me to still my body, which is hard—every nerve ending is now on fire. My eyes are closed, my head pushed back into his chest, my body melding with his… except for my pussy, which is on full view to everyone. My wet, stinging pussy… and God help me, I want him to slap me again.
“You’re not looking?” He chuckles, touches my cheek. “They’ve all noticed you, sweet girl. They see you sitting on me, awaiting my touch, whether it be for pleasure or not.”
I arch my back, his words electrifying me.
“And I think you fucking love it.” He growls and bites my earlobe.
“Bite my neck,” I order him, adjusting my body, trying to open my legs wider. They’re looking at me? Let them stare. Let them all desire me, wish they could fuck me—but they can’t. Tonight, I’m the queen, the one getting the attention, the one on fire.
I cry out as he smacks my pussy again, a little harder.
“I’m the one who gives the commands.” He rubs his fingers so lightly over the area he spanked that I barely feel it. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, yes, Sir,” I hurry to respond. The light feels warm on my face and body and I like being here, draped over him, drifting into one of my dark fantasies. For a second I’m not sure if it’s real or if I’m at home, dreaming.
“Oh, it’s real,” he murmurs, giving me a quick nip on the neck.
Surprised, I blink my eyes open and crane my neck to look up at him. “What?”
“And it’s about to get more intense… if you can handle that.” He checks me, watching like a hawk. Looking, I assume, for signs that I do or do not like where this is going.
He’s graceful at this game; I sense he can move it in any direction I want without a glitch.
“I can handle whatever you think you can give me.” I make my tone mocking, although I’m nearly one hundred percent sure I could not handle anything. This man has a darkness to him that I can sense; it’s part of his allure. And I want to play on the edge.
“You’re quite defiant, aren’t you.” He slides me off his lap onto the settee and stands up. “Soon enough, you’ll be more submissive, Temi.”
He looks across the room. “That spanking bench is available. I’m going to go over there and get a few things set up. When I gesture like this,” he holds his hand up and snaps his fingers, “you’ll crawl over to me. Slowly. Make it sexy. Then you kneel and wait for your next command.”
My eyes widen. “You want me to what? You’re going to snap for me?”
“Exactly. If you don’t obey, I’ll give you extra with the crop. That’s one of the things I’m getting prepared, by the way.”
“I…”
The idea of crawling—the humiliation!—so much more degrading than being spread across his lap, has me balking, even though this place is full of sex and exhibition, and exultation in it all.
“Perhaps you need some more motivation,” he suggests. In a split second—he moves so fast, I can’t even comprehend it—he’s back beside me and has me on my back on the settee, skirt falling around my waist like a waterfall, my legs up in the air.
“Spread,” he orders me, his voice a low growl. “And keep your eyes open this time. Look at me, Temi.”
I stare at his gaze, those gorgeous purple eyes, so full of passion and determination.
“You’ve disappointed me,” he says softly. “And for that, you must be chastized.”
He puts one hand on each calf and pulls my legs open until I can’t go further.
“Keep your eyes on me while I punish you,” he murmurs.
There’s no time to answer because he slaps my pussy again, so much harder this time that I recognize that the little taps before were just play.
“Ow!” I cry out, twisting my hips, but he’s got his hands on my calves again.
“No. Two more hard ones, just like that. It’s going to hurt, and then it will be over, and you can get back to your job of waiting for the signal to crawl to me. Understand? Or else we go back to the bar, have a drink, and I’ll send you home.”
I’m terrified that he’ll really send me home, and so I nod, mute.
“Good. Ready?”
“Y-yes.”
He smacks me again, just as hard as before. I gasp and bite my lip to avoid crying out. I know people are watching me, seeing how Locke has me spread out for his punishment.
“It stings.” I wiggle my hips again. “Locke.”
“But look how wet you are,” he says, gliding a finger along my pussy. “I think another slap will do you good.” He rubs me while he speaks. “A little pain only enhances the pleasure. See?”
And he spanks my pussy again, the hardest one yet. I yelp despite myself, the bright spark of pain fading fast, and combining with the growing pleasure to leave just a subtle warmth and burn that makes me want him even more badly.
“You like that,” he observes. “But think about how it would feel to get another dozen. That might sting too much, no?”
My eyes must have widened in alarm because he chuckles. “But don’t worry. If you’re a good girl and crawl like you’re told, I won’t need to whip your pussy anymore. It’s entirely up to you.”
He helps me close my legs and adjusts me to a sitting position. “Keep your eyes on me, Temi. When I snap, I want you crawling the very next second. The next time I have to spank your pussy, it won’t be with my hand.”
He kisses me once, a hard kiss on my lips, then strides off across the room.
My chest heaves and my nipples are hard with desire. I watch him as if through a golden curtain, eyes glazed with amazement and need, as he disappears into an alcove and returns in a few minutes, several items in his hands. I can’t tell for sure what he has, although I see silver and black leather. I shudder in anticipation.
Our eyes meet across the room, and no one else exists.
He stares at me for a second, then raises his hand and snaps once. His gaze—so haughty, so dismissive—only turns me on harder.
Without a second thought, I get to the floor as quickly as I can, my dress still hiked up around my hips. I crawl to him, trying to move gracefully and quickly. The floor is smooth and shiny, hard on my knees, and I don’t feel an oun
ce of pain. All I know is that I want to get to him as fast as I can.
When I’m close enough to kiss his shoes, I get up into a kneel. I’m not sure what he wants, but I do what I’ve seen others do: I spread my thighs and rise up, lacing my hands behind my head. My breasts, still arrayed on the pulled-down part of my dress, are on offer for him.
He doesn’t speak. He’s still for a moment, then he walks around me, as if surveying me from all angles.
“Eyes down,” he orders, and I look quickly at the floor.
“Legs wider.”
And I obey, although it’s awkward and a little uncomfortable.
“Hands behind your back, now.”
This makes me wobble for a second, but I quickly get back into position.
“Not bad.” He pushes something against my left nipple, and I gasp: it’s a crop. Lustrous leather that gleams in the light, it resembles the crop I saw being used on the woman earlier—
“You liked that, didn’t you?” I can’t tell if the words are in my head or if he’s speaking them. “You want to see how it feels.”
Either way, the answer, falls from my lips. “Yes.”
Yes.
“Let’s see how nice and plump your nipples can get from a cropping, hmm? We definitely need to firm them up before I put on the clamps.”
“Clamps?” I speak, then bite back the word.
“Of course,” he says easily. “I want your nipples quite tender and pink before I fuck you, Temi.”
And without waiting another second, he swipes the crop through the air and slaps it against my nipple.
The pain is sudden and biting, like fire that dulls into a bee sting.
I squeal and squirm, moving to grab my breast to protect it from further mistreatment.
He taps my elbow with the crop. “Hands back behind your head for now. If you interfere again, I’ll have to use the crop on your pussy, Temi.” His tone is firm. “You knew I was going to be strict with you, so do your best to obey. I know you can.”
I nod. “Yes, Sir.” I lace my hands behind my head.
He brushes the crop over the nipple he slapped, teasing softly, tickling it. Then he moves to the other, and back to the first. In a matter of a minutes, I’m nearly moaning with pleasure and desire, because the way he’s gently flicking my nipples is sending the vibrations straight to my clit.
