by Leigh Lennon
I shake the idea out of my head, and he stands behind me, clasping the necklace around my neck.
“Now, I’m going to warn you that what you see in there is more than I want from you. You’ll see subs flogged, tied up, in various forms of bondage. I love to belong to a club with members of various needs. But don’t worry, I’m not going to tie you up and flog you.”
Tied up? Something about this has me wanting this. Flogging seems a little too much for me at this point, but I’ve always been up to a challenge.
I don’t know what I’m doing with my face when Marcel leans down toward my ear, as he places his arm at the small of my back. “Tell me, chéri, does something about what I’ve just said turn you on?”
“Maybe, but let me answer you fully later?” I ask.
“Yes, that’s fine.” He leads me to a private booth, and I’m relieved his arms are guiding me since my eyes are locked on the scenes and depravity around the club. It’s nothing I’ve been witness to in the past. Nothing that gains my attention is a turn-off. Well, maybe the scene with the whips in the corner. It’s something of beauty, but it’s not me.
He helps me into the circular booth and moves around the table to be near me.
The music is super loud, and he’s able to talk to me without yelling but others not overhearing. It’s an intimate environment even though there’s plenty of movement and other activities around us.
I stay silent because isn’t that what a sub does? Not that I’m his sub, and though I’m not turned off by those around me, I’m certainly out of my element.
“Chéri, I want you to be honest with me. It’s the only way this will work, even if there’s an expiration date at the end of our time together.”
Yes, that’s right. He hasn’t been clearer about this. I know where I stand. Sex, dominating out of this world sex. And then it’s done. As agreed upon.
“I’m not turned off, but it’s intimidating.”
My hands are in my lap, and he grabs one, interlacing his hand with mine.
“And the reason you ran?”
I don’t think I ran. “If I were to have run, I wouldn’t have answered your calls. As I said before, I felt like a business transaction. It felt cheap. And I’m not cheap.”
His hand brings mine to his lips. “The last thing you are in this world is cheap, chéri, and shame on me for giving you this impression. I have to remember you aren’t a sub. I’ve come to learn women love a man to provide for them.”
I bring my head back, taking in a deep breath. “I love the idea of being cared for, but in a manner where I’m just not another bang to you, Sir.” I add the last part for good measure, his eyes stopping on the diamond necklace sitting right below my collarbone.
“You are not just another bang to me, either. And may I add, chéri, I was told you’d not be at the game today. I only accepted because Leela said it would be your parents.”
I wondered what the story was. “Yeah, I changed my mind at the last minute, telling myself with the three million people in the surrounding area, the last thing I’d do is run into you.”
“Yeah, and how did that work out?” he asks, giving me a slight squeeze on the shoulder.
“Yeah, I couldn’t stop my fluttering heart. It never does that. And so, when you left, I wondered if that was a cue for me to follow.”
“It was stupid to treat you like a sub when you’re not one. And for that, I apologize.”
This has to be an out-of-body experience, and somewhere the real me is at a coffee shop, enjoying some alone time, and not in the crowd in front of me. “I appreciate that. I’m glad to see you again, even if this isn’t forever, since neither one of us want that.” I don’t give him a chance to agree with me because I don’t want to hear it from him, even if it’s the truth. My head turns to the crowd, where through a small crack of bodies, a woman is bound to a table. “What are they doing?”
“Ah, it’s wax play. Her Dom, who happens to be her husband, too, has this thing about wax. Many come to the clubs on Sunday just to see it.”
“Really, I’d think the hopping nights would be Friday and Saturday.”
His eyes glisten as I continue to ask question after question. “Yeah, you’re right, chérI, but it’s why they come on Sundays. Plus, they have kids, who are their focus.”
I stand to watch the beautiful blonde. She’s stunning and tall, and her husband, in all black, walks around the table with what looks like a tickler.
“Here, let’s go watch.” He takes my hand, circling us around the crowd to an open spot. “The tickler is just to heighten her desires, for the show stopper, the wax.”
Marcel throws an arm around my shoulder, tightening his grasp on me. The heat between the two of his is enough to ignite a spark, and his pull toward me is almost predatorial.
The woman is in a skimpy outfit, showing every part of her, except the crack of her ass, barely covered by a pair of panties and a bra, though she lies on her stomach.
“And pouring hot wax, does what? Awakens the senses?”
He leans in and kisses me unaware on the cheek. “You’re getting into this, chéri, aren’t you?”
I don’t answer, and he continues. “First off, it’s not the wax as it drips on your skin, the big part comes from when it’s peeled off, and you don’t use just any candle. I’ve been told, paraffin, or soy.”
He has a lot of information concerning this kink. “Is this something you’ve done?”
“Ah, you are full of questions, chéri. I don’t partake in a lot of the flogging, wax play. It’s not my thing. I’m about dominating during sex, but watching this gets me ready, and my partner, too.”
I don’t know why it saddens me to think of Marcel with someone else. Of course he has been. He’s twenty years older than me. And I’m certainly not a virgin either, but an odd rage of jealousy ripples through my body.
The second wax falls on her, my own body shudders at the idea, and what the hell does he mean the true sensations comes from the wax being peeled off?
He pulls me from the scene to another one on the main stage, a flogger being used on the female submissive. “All these techniques bring out the sub’s heightened desires. As I’ve explained, I don’t believe in a lot of props for me because the true sensation is sex itself, but for you, I’d consider this.”
“I mean, are you talking about the sub’s endorphins?”
He hitches an eyebrow higher at me. “I guess someone’s done her research.”
“Yeah, I guess I have.”
He squeezes my hand with his, and he licks his lips, the same ones that I remember so vividly, snake across my ear. And I can’t wait for him to tell me what he wants. “Listen, chéri, I’ve shown you what I want to show you, but now I’m ready to play at my house. Are you game?”
I know I should answer with a verbal yes, but when I shake my head, he grabs my hand, and we’re out of the club in record fashion.
Chapter 12
Marcel
The drive from the club to my house is just under thirty minutes. And we sit in silence with the sexual energy about to explode around me. I can’t touch her, or we won’t make it back to my house. Thinking of my house, I never bring women to my home, unless they’re colleagues and friends, yet I won’t treat her like the others. There’s no comparison.
I come to a halt at the front door, not even parking my priceless Aston Martin in my garage. I can’t, not at the moment, not when my blood is pumping with so much desire and need.
She reaches for the door, but my hand catches her wrist. “Now, listen, chéri, it’s me, I’m in control. You don’t like something, you need to say red. And if it’s getting close, yellow. And I’ll be asking you through the night. If you’re good, green. Understand me, chéri?”
“Yes, Sir.” Her sass is gone, and I’m rewarded with her submission. It’s not labored. She delivers it with the most respect. I let go of her because if we don’t get in the house, soon and very soon, her giving me
what I ask for just may make me come.
My idea is to open the car door for her, but she’s as needy as I am. I take my keys, scanning my electronic card. I open the door for her, and as she steps in, I swing her against the wall in the foyer, pinning her hands over her head, as I had this afternoon in the supply closet.
“You’re so beautiful.” It’s generic because Molly O’Hennessey is much more than just beautiful. She’s an enigma—a shining light with flaming red hair and her beautiful sparkling gray eyes. I’ve had my share of redheads, something I won't share with her at this moment, and every single one of them has green eyes.
Then there’s my chéri, and as I’ve come to learn, she’s as unique as the color of her eyes and the sass she loves to dole out when she feels challenged.
“You’re quite beautiful, too, Sir.”
One end of my lip quirks up in a smile. “But for now, my beauty, no speaking unless I allow it.”
She gives me her answer with a slight tilt of her head. “Good girl, chéri.”
I’m done with talking. I will show her everything I want from her tonight. I reach behind her, finding the zipper to the skirt, right above her ass. “Yeah, my hands on your ass…” I’m lost for words at this moment because, honestly, the pure aura of her makes me lose my mind.
“I’m going to kiss every part of your body tonight.” The skirt of her dress falls to the floor, and I’m rewarded with her nakedness from the waist down. “And this is a pleasant surprise.” Her eyes are closed, but I get another slight nod.
There’s a zipper, I locate for the top of her outfit, above where it had been on her skirt. Pulling it down, I watch the top slide down and her tits fall free.
“Well, fuck, chéri, you are full of surprises. Anything else I need to be made aware of.”
She’s writhing simply under my gaze. I begin to test the theory of what she’ll do if I touch her. My finger slightly pinches one of her nipples. She squirms some more.
“Color, chéri?” I ask.
“Green.” She barely breathes it out, and I move my hand over to her neglected tit, doing the same to her nipple.
“And now?”
“Still green, Sir.”
My finger dances down her sculpted waist along the defined muscles in her abdomen.
“And where did you get these, chéri?”
“Um, I was a gymnast.” I love her labored breathing. It means I’m doing something to her.
“Yeah, I love it. So fucking sexy.” An athletic girl always drew my attention. It meant they were tough, working for the common good of their team.
My finger glides down toward her clit, and I open her, my finger delving straight inside.
“Don’t come, chéri,” I command, and she holds a groan by her body language. “Part of domination is reading the submissive. I can read you, and I’d rather you have one fucking long, mind-numbing orgasm instead of two adequate ones.”
With the pad of my thumb, I’m finger fucking her as I apply pressure against her clit. “You are so wet, chéri.”
One of my arms still has her hands over her head, and I watch her push back her orgasm. It’s a beautiful thing. I’m more focused today, building her pressure more for her than myself. That’s one of my jobs as a Dom.
“Hold on, chéri, hold on just a little bit longer.” Her body is shaking, and I’m the one that will decide how and when she comes. My finger pushes deeper, my thumb circling her clit.
My mouth crashes with her, and as I’m finger fucking her, I’m also fucking her with my tongue. Through her squirms, I know she’s almost ready for the mind-numbing orgasm I’ve promised.
I pull back, and it’s time. “Come, chéri. Let it go. And you can use your words or be as loud as you’d like.”
I’m greeted with gibberish, but in her elation, it’s music to my ears. I drop my hand from the ones above her head. I have to hold her up, and she’s melting in my arm. “See, I deliver what I promise, Chéri.” She leans in against me, and it’s nothing for me to pick her up, cradling her in my arms. I pass my master bedroom because no one is ever allowed in my personal space. Making my way to the grandest of my guest rooms, I push open the door with my foot and deposit her on the bed. I’d planned this before I left, with supplies I’d need for the night. Walking to the small mini-fridge, I grab some chocolates and a water.
Kneeling on the bed beside her, I caress her cheeks, pulling the red ringlets from her crystal gray eyes.
“Chéri, what is your color?”
“Um…” She pulls in a deep breath, exhaling as she answers. “Green.”
I pull her toward me, where she’s sitting next to me. “I need you to drink this and have a little bit of chocolate.”
She does as she’s told. “Now, chéri, what do you think about being tied up? Is that something you want to try?”
She chews the chocolate pieces daintily, washing it down with a couple sips of water.
“Yes, Sir. I do want to try it. But, is there anything I can do for you?”
Ah, no one has ever offered it, yet I’ve never been this slack in my own rules. Why does this one person make me want to break them?
“Not now. All in good time, chéri. All in good time.”
When she finishes her snack, I grab the rope I have at home to take to the club.
“I’m going to bind you rather loosely, but you won’t be able to break away from the bed.”
There’s a pure smile, an almost serene peace about her. Fuck, this woman.
As I bind her, I stare at her nakedness. Her creamy skin against the red flames of her curly hair has me thinking things I don’t think of.
I have her secured, and I grab a condom from the side table. My mind is blown, and all the playing I’d planned on is undone with my need to be inside of her again.
“I want to be in you, chéri. I want to own that sweet pussy of yours.”
I rid myself of my slacks, pulling everything down in one fluid motion, and of course, my cock is just as eager as entering her as I am. I shuck my top off, crawling over her. I can’t make this a quick fuck. She deserves better than this.
“Now, I’m going to show you what being a Dom is all about. Not only will I cherish your whole body, but by the end of the night, I will have ruined you for your basic everyday man.”
My hand cups her ass, squeezing it tight. “Color, chéri?”
“Oh, it’s green, Sir.”
She’s so eager and so ready.
My head is over hers, and I play a trick, dropping my mouth only to let it suckle on one of her tits. I suck on it, and she’s quiet, taking my lead, and since I’ve not allowed her to make noise in this new position, she rewards me with her compliance.
Moving my lips to the other side, I stop to get her attention. “Color?”
“Still green, Sir.”
I pay the same attention to her other tit, and I pull back. Her eyes are closed.
“Look at me, chéri. I want you to see how much joy I get from pleasing you.”
“Yes, Sir,” she answers, and my heart beats different for this girl.
I move down her stomach, dropping kisses on her perfect six-pack I’ve never seen on another woman.
My mind is going crazy, needing to claim her. But I have to steal a taste. The second my tongue licks the tip of her clit, she lets out a guttural moan.
I lightly tap her ass, and it’s a firm ass to boot. “Did I give you permission to speak or make noise, chéri?”
“No, Sir.” Her tone is even and respectful.
“Color?” I ask.
“Green, Sir.”
I’ve tasted her, even for the briefest of moments. I can’t wait, so ripping the condom open, I sheath myself. “I have to take you, chéri.”
“Take me, Sir.”
It’s all the permission I need. I push inside her, and with each thrust, somehow, I claim her deep, a little rougher.
“Speak, chéri, tell me anything.”
“Fuck, you’r
e so big. And I love it.”
She’s tight as hell, and as she begins to quiver, indicating she’s close to an orgasm, I’m lost in her eyes. In just a few moments, we’ve connected in a way that I’ve never thought was possible, especially with someone twenty years my junior.
I’ve awoken something inside me, and I pull out and discard my condom. I can’t help but want to run. I’m not made for forever. It’s not me. But at the end of the day, I’m still a Dom. I untie her and crawl into bed with her, holding her tight, watching for sub drop. When her breathing levels out, and I’m convinced she’s asleep, I tug the covers over her, pulling the door closed behind me. I won’t fall asleep with her in the same bed together. No, that would be the biggest mistake of my life. So, why is it I want to?
Chapter 13
Molly
The sun streams in from the slats in the blinds, and I search for a clock or even a sign of where I am. It takes me a minute, but I realize I’m in bed with Marcel until I reach for him, and he’s gone.
I have no idea when I fell asleep, but I slept like a baby once he owned my body. I remember his words, how he would ruin me for other men. He wasn’t wrong. I pull back the covers to my nakedness. My eyes adjust to the light streaming in the room, and I see I’ve been left a white bathrobe. He really does think of everything.
I stagger to the door, where it sits on a hook, and cover myself in the hopes that Marcel has started some coffee. He must have woken up earlier than I have, obviously.
I follow the hall to what I know leads to the kitchen. This part I remember, as I prod toward him, not smelling the coffee.
I pass double doors that are closed and think nothing of it. I round the corner to a dark kitchen and still no coffee.
I attempt to search for my purse as I do the same for Marcel. I find my way back to the foyer, where everything of mine was dropped in the doorway, even my dress.
Pulling out my phone, I rest my weary body against the same wall Marcel had me pinned.
When I open the cell, the time reads 6:30 a.m. I’ve been asleep this long? I’m not just greeted with the time but also with about twenty texts from my mom.
