“That’s what we call it when we’re at the club and we act out a pre-planned… well, scene, or scenario. From the moment we begin the… sexual activity—” I flush hotly, looking away from his eyes and down at our hands still joined against the tops of my thighs. “—until we reach completion, that’s the scene. And then a…” My eyes widen and I look up, realization hitting me. I do know something about Dominants I can tell him. “And then a good Dominant treats his submissive to what is called aftercare.”
His head tilts to the side, and I have to admit the look is adorable. “Aftercare,” he echoes. “I assume that’s the care he’d give you after the scene is complete. As in, what? Cleaning up? Redressing you?”
I give him a shy half smile. “Yes and no. The first part, yes. But it’s more… Hm. Let’s see. It’s hard to explain in words. This is the first time I’ve ever tried to describe it to anyone.”
“Take your time, Evelyn. I want to learn,” he urges, and the way he’s looking at me does something electrical to my blood.
I nod. “Okay, well. I need to go back a little further then. During a scene, if the Dominant is skilled in what he does, then it’s not just like any old sex. It’s not just… wham, bam, thank you, ma’am, you both get an orgasm if you’re lucky, and you’re done with it.” I shake my head and then close my eyes, hating how awkward I am.
He pulls me out of my self-deprecating thoughts with a squeeze to my hands, making me meet his gaze once more. “Good, all right. It’s not normal fucking. Then what’s it like?”
The use of the F-word from one of my students is startling and I flinch. I swallow, trying to get back on track. “Right. So… it’s way more than that. More sensual. More… everything. It’s not just physical. You’re meeting each other’s needs. I’m meeting the Dom’s needs by submitting to him, letting him take control, allowing him to do things to me willingly. He’s meeting mine by not forcing me to have to make decisions. I’m giving in to what I trust is his expertise. I don’t have to think about it. I don’t have to learn anything about him. I can just know he’s going to take care of me and bring me pleasure. At least… at Club Alias that’s how it is.” I shake my head, getting back to answering his question.
“Anyway, so when you get out of your head and give in to all those things, it allows the pleasure to escalate beyond the normal measures. It elevates you, like… for a submissive, it’s almost a trance. Like… an out-of-body experience. You feel like you’re floating in another dimension.” My cheeks explode with heat at how enthusiastic my voice has gotten, and I realize to a normal person I probably sound ridiculous, talking about sex taking you to another dimension.
But I’m not speaking to just some normal person, now am I? No. And I know that, because he pulls our joined hands closer to him, setting them on his thighs now, and it tugs me toward him.
“That sounds amazing, Evelyn. Truly. So what happens then?” he encourages, devouring my every word.
“Well, that out-of-body feeling is what we call subspace. And it’s important to come down from that… like, gently. It could be rather jarring to go from floating in another world to suddenly crashing into reality, right? So a good Dominant will provide aftercare, to slowly bring his sub back into her body, to make her feel warm and welcomed back to earth basically.” I smile, thinking about some of the amazing Doms I’ve been with. “Personally, aftercare is my favorite part of the whole experience. It’s what leaves me feeling centered and levelheaded and gets me through… the rest of the week.” I finish up the sentence differently than what I’d been thinking, not wanting to mention he’s partly the reason I need such extreme measures to help me function like a normal adult.
“You make it sound like getting a fix, like a dose or treatment,” he replies, his expression curious.
I nod. “For me, it is. Not… not to get into my history or anything, but medications for my mental health didn’t work out so well. And this is the only thing that’s ever made me feel halfway… normal.”
“Normal.” He chuckles. “They say it’s the quiet ones who are the freaks.” He grins jokingly, but the word sinks to the bottom of my gut like a lead weight. I try to jerk my hands out of his grip. But he holds them hostage. “Ms.— Evelyn, what’s wrong?” Nate asks, holding tighter as I try to pry my hands away, leaning back on the ottoman with all my strength, but he pulls me forward easily as if I weigh nothing. “What did I say?”
“I’m…” I shake my head, my heart shockingly hurt for some reason, after I’d opened up to him. “I’m not a freak,” I manage to whisper, and I feel the corners of my mouth wobble as I try to fight back the sudden urge to cry. “Being submissive does not make me a freak. Just like being a Dominant wouldn’t. Just like having to control things, keep things neat and tidy and perfect, and count to certain numbers in your head, doesn’t make you one!” I cry out. And if I had my hands free, I would’ve slapped my palm over my mouth, in shock at the shit that just came out of it, but I don’t. So I can only look at him in wide-eyed, slack-jawed horror.
I brace myself when I see his nostrils flare, his brows lowering over his eyes that have gone dangerously dark. I’ve blown it. I just know it. All he wanted was to learn about Dominance and submission, and I had to go and spaz out and throw his own quirks in his face like an asshole. Hurt me and I’ll hurt you back, like some child playing slaps. But this isn’t some game. This isn’t some harmless conversation we’re having for funzies. This man holds my entire life in the palm of his hand, and he could crush everything I’ve worked for with one sentence from his mouth to his family, to my boss.
I hold my breath, waiting for his retaliation, every muscle in my body tense…
Chapter 7
Evie
The next thing I know, in one fluid movement, he rolls the chair he’s sitting in away, just enough that he can bring his long legs that were on the outside of mine together, forces them between my knees, and then uses his grip on my hands to yank me forward and onto his lap, straddling him. He takes my hands and circles them behind my back, locking them in place with his at my tailbone. He’s so tall that even as I sit on top of his lap, I still have to tilt my head upward to look into his eyes, which I do, but not for long, as his mouth comes crashing down on mine.
I’m so shocked by this turn of events, by this unexpected switch in emotion, that I freeze, trying to let my mind catch up with what is happening in reality instead of what I feared would take place by throwing those words in Nathaniel’s face. But then his mouth opens over mine, and his hungry growl sends a hot wave of wetness straight to my pussy. I don’t think; I just feel, and I open my mouth to receive his tongue, giving in to who I am inside and submitting to his dominance. This, I can do. This, I’m really fucking good at—giving over control and letting him take what he needs from me.
And what he needs from me right now is my tongue as he strokes his against mine in a way I’ve never been kissed before. There’s not a lot of kissing that goes on at the club, as far as the scenes I’ve ever participated in. Kissing is usually reserved for the people who are in actual relationships, a form of intimacy not often shared between random people who are scening together. At least in my experience. So Nate’s mouth on mine is an unfamiliar pleasure, and I melt into him, letting him lead me through a dance of lips and tongues, sighs and stolen breaths.
With another ferocious growl from deep within his chest, he launches me backward onto the oversized ottoman, following me with his big body as he pulls our still joined hands above my head. His weight is heavy but comfortable between my legs, and I whimper as he grinds his hips, the erection behind his fly notching perfectly with my clit covered by nothing but thin layers of lace and cotton. His face hovers over mine as he watches me, like he always watches me, and his dark hair hangs forward, creating a shadow over one side of his face. He’s like a gorgeous incubus come to wreak havoc.
He grinds his hips again, and it steals my breath, my head pressing back into the cushion as I arch
my body closer to him. I need release, been waiting all week for my release, and he stole it from me, and I’m so desperate for it now that I don’t even care it’s him who could give it to me right here, right now.
“Please,” I beg before I even realize the word falls from my lips, and I tighten my fingers between his above my head, drawing my knees up and placing my heels on the edge of the ottoman so I can press my pussy against him harder.
I feel his muscles tighten above me, and I watch as something inside him loosens, rolling up and folding away like an accordion, as he lets go of the tight control he must have had a rein on. Because something inside Nate Black snaps, and he lets out a sound almost feral as he slams his mouth to mine once more.
He thrusts hard against me, making me shudder and my eyes roll back in my head as he devours my mouth. “Fuck,” he growls against my lips, and if we were naked, I’d be sore with how powerfully his hips thrust against mine. But I love it, and I take it happily. When I look up into his eyes once more, I see… I see so very clearly he wants something, but he doesn’t know how to ask, how to make it happen. This is why he was asking me to teach him. This is what he doesn’t know how to let loose but still maintain control over. He has urges, needs that he doesn’t know how to fulfill, and he was hoping for my help.
My submissive stretches and purrs as she unfurls beneath him, swishing her tail and ready to teach him exactly what he needs to know to satisfy both of us.
“That’s it… Mr. Black,” I tell him, remembering the sensual look that covered his face when I called him that before. “Don’t think. Just feel. Do whatever feels right. Trust yourself, and give in to what your body craves. Tell me what you want, what you want me to do. You’re not gonna hurt me. I can take it.” I whisper the last part, and as I watch my words sink into this brilliant man’s mind, seeing them give him peace he’s been searching for, for who knows how long, I relax into the soft cushion beneath me and give myself over to him, and it’s like coming home.
“Fuck, Evie. Keep your hands there and don’t move them,” he murmurs, almost tentatively, as if he doesn’t believe I’ll follow his orders without a fight.
“Yes, Sir,” I reply, even though I know I don’t have to. But if this is what he needs, if this is what I can do to build his confidence and help him grow into a good and respectable Dominant, then that’s what I’ll do. I’m an educator, after all. And I try not to think about the fact that this isn’t the only way Nathaniel Black IV is my student.
He puffs out a single huff of amusement as he lets go of my hands, and when I keep them right where he left them like I’m supposed to, I see him relax slightly.
It’s not until he lifts himself off me, stands between my legs, and reaches behind him to grasp the neck of his shirt and tug it over his head that it hits me exactly what I’m doing.
Am I going to have sex with Nate?
I’ve been so caught up, so overwhelmed in the last several minutes that it’s just now dawning on me—I’m not at Club Alias with one of the vetted members who have been cleared as safe to be dominated by. There is no security around, no other members to help me in case of an emergency. This is my home. This person is a student at the school where I work. He’s inexperienced in the D/s lifestyle and could easily hurt me, since he’s never been trained in dominance.
But for the life of me, I cannot seem to care enough to stop this. Maybe it’s because I’d had my heart set on the release I was guaranteed to have tonight, like every Friday night. Maybe I’m so desperate for my dose of submission that I’m willing to get it from anyone. But something inside me whispers that the real reason is because I want Nate Black. I want him like I’ve never wanted anyone before in my life. And I want to teach him everything I can about being a good and proper Dominant, so he can be mine.
When his shirt is off, he swipes his fingers through his hair before folding the black fabric neatly and placing it into the rolling chair behind him. I suck in a breath at how freaking perfect he is. He’s tall and lean but wide, the most beautiful swimmer’s body I’ve ever seen. His chest is bare of hair or ink, just flawless, smooth, light-tan skin.
I lose sight of him as he drops to his knees, and he takes hold of my leggings. I feel the elastic of my panties pop back against my skin as he decides to leave them on before tugging my black bottoms down my legs. He lets go of the waistband and pulls them off the rest of the way by the elastic at my ankles, so they stay right side out, and he easily folds them and places them in the chair with his shirt. He looks down on me, hands still right where he told me to keep them, my dark-blue lace panties only enough fabric to cover my very center.
He suddenly looks lost, like he’s stuck and doesn’t know what to do. Like he’s fighting himself, battling what he thinks is right versus what he craves. I take pity on him and tell him gently, “Normally, a Dom and a sub would have preplanned their scene. They go over each other’s likes and dislikes, what’s expected from each participant. In a normal scene, you wouldn’t be second guessing everything, Mr. Black.”
His eyes meet mine and he stands tall, squaring his shoulders over his hips. The stance looks powerful, especially from my prone position beneath him. “Tell me more,” he demands and crosses his arms over his chiseled pecs.
I swallow at the beauty of him. “Um… well. The Dom and sub would have discussed what they’d like to happen during their time together. Whether there would be toys involved and which ones. Whether there would be actual intercourse, or oral, or… anything really. You’d know each other’s hard limits, which are things that are completely off the table. You’d know the things the sub is open to experimenting with. Oh! And you’d have a safe word.”
He gives me a sexy smirk that makes my toes curl into the cushion. “What’s your safe word, Ms. Richards?” he asks, and it’s the same tone he uses when he fucks with me at school.
I meet his stare head-on and unwavering. “Periodicals.”
He snorts. “Of course it is, my little library mouse.”
It’s not the first time he’s called me his mouse. And I have to admit, I don’t hate that he’s given me his own little nickname, which after the way he told me he thinks I’m beautiful, I choose to take it as a term of endearment rather than a putdown.
“What are your hard limits?” he asks, widening his stance and giving me that studious face of his.
I swallow. “Right now, and in this precarious position, there are too many to list. Things you probably wouldn’t even think of or need to.”
“Like what?” he demands.
“For one, urine and fecal play,” I say haughtily and snort out a laugh at his grimace. But then his face morphs into a mask of seriousness, and before I know what he’s doing, he bends over me, skims his hand under my shirt and beneath one cup of my bra, and he pinches my nipple. I whimper at the sharp pain, my head throwing back into the ottoman even as my hips rotate against the sudden weight between my legs.
With my eyes closed, I can only hear that he hovers above me, but his silky voice sends goose bumps up my spine when he tells me, “Might want to watch your tone, little mouse. I don’t do well with being sassed and laughed at.”
I don’t hesitate. “Yes, Mr. Black.” And he groans in pleasure, whether at my whispered words of submission or at his cock nestling up against my hot pussy, I don’t know. Maybe both.
But then I hear his intake of breath, and I open my eyes to see doubt in his. “I’m… I’m sorry, Evelyn. Did I hurt—”
“No,” I cut him off. “Do not apologize. You did exactly what you were supposed to. I deserved that small punishment for doing something against your wishes. You didn’t overreact. You did nothing wrong. And… I liked it.” I shudder as he circles his fingertip around my now sensitive nipple.
He nods, his confidence back in place. “Now, is there a way we can fast-forward through the preplanning stuff for right now, because now that I have you half naked and under me, I really don’t want to take a timeout to learn
everything in one go,” he murmurs against my neck, just below my ear, and I shiver.
I give a frantic nod, unable to keep my hips still as I work my clit against the rough line of his fly. “You… you know that kids game Red Light, Green Light?”
“Yes,” he says and then licks a path from my earlobe to the hollow of my throat.
“If you’re worried you’re doing something I don’t like, you can ask me ‘Color?’ and I’ll say green, yellow, or red. Green is go, yellow is take it slow, and red is stop immediately. You do not punish a submissive for calling their safe word or red. It’s a matter of trust, of being a good Dominant. It is your job to keep your submissive’s trust no matter what you may want. Her safety, physical and mental, come above all.”
He places a kiss at my jaw. “It sounds like the sub is the one who might actually be in charge.”
“The Dom is in control of the sub. The sub controls how far she’ll allow the Dom to take her. The better Dom you are, and the better you are to your sub, the more she’ll give you, the more she’ll let you take from her. Yin and yang,” I explain and end on a mewl as he thrusts against my panty-covered core. Just a few more moments of grinding against each other and I could come oh so easily.
“Color, little mouse?” he asks, rocking his hips between my legs once more.
“Green,” I whimper, fighting the urge to lower my arms around him and hold him to me.
As if he read my mind, he grasps one of my hands, but he doesn’t place it around him. He tilts his body to one side and trails my palm along his smooth flesh, down his chest, the ripple of his abs, over that thick V of muscle, and then over his jeans to grip his cock.
“Fuck,” we both say on an exhale at the same time, but neither one of us laughs.
I’ve been with men of all shapes and sizes in my time as a submissive, but I don’t think any of them have ever come close to the sheer massiveness I currently hold in my hand. There’s no way my hand could even circle his girth, even if he were bare. It makes me want him desperately, to test and see if I can take all of him. I want to feel the burn and stretch as he forces himself into me, and the thought alone makes me shudder beneath him.
A Lesson in Blackmail: Black Mountain Academy / a Club Alias Novel Page 5
