She looks back sharply, narrowing her eyes and blowing a breath out at the contact, still not ready to admit what she needs.
“I’m not for playing with, Blaine,” she snaps, anger pitching her voice regardless of not truly believing the words herself. I smile again anyway, a small chuckle leaving me as I lose myself in the thought of playing with her. Not that I should.
“Yes, Alana. You are.”
She backs a step upwards, picking her dress up once more and glaring as she keeps climbing. It intrigues me further as I tip my glass at her and picture her replete the morning after a fucking session. I can smell her exhilaration from here, regardless of the sudden snooty effect produced by her stance. It seeps into me, reminding me of skin that handles my kind of bruising and gasps for last breaths of air.
“Where does this lead?” she asks, a slightly softer tone now she’s checked her temper, her face turning from mine to dismiss our connection.
“Bedrooms.”
She doesn’t look back, but scrunches the black silk into her grasp and redirects her unknown need into it as she continues climbing. The vision makes me chuckle again as I follow and nod at another a Domme wandering down the stairs, a human dog attached to her wrist. Alana looks and huffs, causing the Domme to raise a brow and turn, her crop ready to do its worst to disobedient little subs, no doubt. I shake my head at the woman slowly, flicking my hand back down the stairs to warn of potential repercussions as I walk by.
“You want me involved?” I ask, enough threat to send the woman on her way laced in my tone. She sneers in reply, one final backward glance directed at Alana’s ass before she descends again.
The moment makes me deliberate being here with her, together, in front of all this, as I watch the Domme leave. It could be considered the most careless thing I’ve ever done. Although, it does show a pretence to the rest of the guests, which might keep the other subs from my feet for the night. Why I still want that, though, I’m not sure. I normally find something of partial curiosity here at least. Delaney always ensures something will be suitable for use should I want it.
“Blaine!” Her voice shouts at me, from where I can’t see. I turn, irritated by my own lack of concentration and launch my feet up the few remaining steps to find her. My eyes search the others ambling around, looking for her purple stripes above the crowd, only to see nothing but everyone else. “Blaine!” It’s louder this time, and with a sense of fear attached to it.
I push through the people milling around, anxious to get to her before something happens I’m not in control of, peering in rooms. Finally Lazarus points me in the direction I’m after, his finger inclined towards one of the bedrooms and a smile firmly in place. The help causes me to slow my steps and listen, wondering what I’m about to walk in on and smiling at the thought.
I hardly stop the laugh that wants to come out as I enter the space. She’s over a man’s lap, her dress about to be rucked up, and fuck is she hissing out. Her body’s squirming like it would kill anything that dares touch her. So I lean back against the wall and sip my Champagne again, watching and waiting for what will happen next.
“Wild,” someone says as they rest next to him. Maybe. Not untameable, though. And the tightening of the Dom’s hands prove it as her body begins to give in, regardless of her mind’s fight.
“Blaine.” She shouts it again, like a final scream for help as her eyes flick around the room in search of me. I don’t move to intervene, and when she finally locates me in the room, she glares with such malice it sends my cock into spasms of need. The Dom that has hold of her searches for me, too, our eyes connecting as he lessons his grip on her back.
“She’s yours?” The guy next to me asks, the Dom holding her mirroring the same question with a simple look. Mine? I don’t own anything anymore. Those days are long gone. I smirk into Alana’s face, amused that she’s on the back foot and still squirming erratically.
“No,” is my reply, crossing my leg and taking another sip. She isn’t. But I am protecting her. Nothing will happen here that I’m not content to allow. She wants a thrill for her story; she can have one. Her previous brattish behaviour deserves the contact anyway, and I doubt she’s ever taken a spanking before, so now is as good a time as any for her to try the sensation out.
The Dom holding her is immediate in increasing his grip on her again, presumably effectively wound up by her squirming and grinding on his cock. Had she simply lain still, he probably would have become bored with her already, but nothing provokes a Dom more than a sub behaving like a terror, especially a juvenile one like the man currently rucking up her dress again.
“Blaine?” It’s more a question this time, spoken with uncertainty as it trembles out of her.
I grab at a woman walking by and pull her in front of me, then pushed her down to the floor in front of my feet. She groans and assumes the perfect position for a sub, displaying the servitude some require and, with any luck, showing Alana how to behave. She’ll enjoy it if she does. The squirming has probably made her wet already, wetter than she already was, and the way her eyes widen at the vision by my feet tells me everything I need to know. It makes me nod at her and lick my lips, tipping my glass at her again to let her know I’m here and that she’s safe. Nothing will happen that I’m not in control of. Nothing.
It doesn’t take long for the Dom to continue. Her dress is raised higher, her ass on display for the room to see. She writhes at that thought, too, trying to twist her body out of the man’s hold once more, until the first spank lands. Her mouth opens immediately, a sigh quickly following it as she stares at the floor in disbelief and raises her ass again with little thought. The next one only furthers her arousal as she stills and takes it. It’s all there in her eyes, waiting to be explored and invaded. She needs the impact, relishes it after only a short introduction. She already seems more pliable in the guy’s hands, and my own fucking cock rages for escape at the sound that rattles the air in the room. It sends waves of wrath through my own soul, throwing ideas and images at me, ready to do their worst to unblemished skin. I know because of the way my fingers itch for her across my own lap. And I know because of the way I’m willing the younger Dom on for a firmer handing on her ass. She’s begging for it without any noise at all. I can hear her, her body already opening for use should it be asked of her. She wants it more than she knows. Her breath is rapid, her compliance quick and relatively easy to achieve given the complete strangers staring at her. She pants now, still lifting her ass even after the fifth strike lands. I scour the room, looking for something stiffer to land on her skin, knowing she needs more than the youngster’s achieving and desperate to give it to her myself. A cedar paddle catches my eye, tempting me with irrationality in the middle of this decadence, but something stops me before I push off the wall. I look back at her, sensing something other than compliance in the air for some reason and gaze into her eyes for explanation. She just lifts her head to me, a sadness creeping over her features regardless of the way her ass continues to rise in the Dom’s hands.
I’ve walked to her side before I’ve thought, her melancholy affecting me more profoundly than anything in this room ever could.
“Enough,” I state, my hand reaching for the dress and dragging it back across her ass to the floor. The Dom glowers at me, presumably trying to look threatening. I just hold my hand out to Alana and wait for any repercussion the fool thinks appropriate. She takes my hand quietly, shrewdly realising something is happening in the four feet surrounding us as she clambers back to her feet.
“You said she wasn’t yours?”
“She’s not,” I reply, suddenly confused about why that sentiment irritates me more than I’d like to admit. “But she’s not yours either. Are you, Alana?” She frowns in response and lets go of my hand as her feet start backing her out of the room, her eyes darting to the other people around her.
I turn and follow her, dismissing the growl that emanates from the younger Dom.
“T
hey can’t know, Blaine,” she says, quietly, backing her way from the room and rubbing her ass as she goes. “No one can know who I am or why I’m with you.”
“Why would anyone here know who you are?” I ask, bemused that she would say only that rather than feel the need to talk about what just happened in the room.
“But you’re a… and I’m... Well, I’ve got different names, haven’t I? And you can’t call me them here. I didn’t think…” She starts to babble her words, still walking away from me and back towards the stairs. “This isn’t right, Blaine.” I frown at her back as she starts her descent and follow her mysterious ass as she picks up her dress and her speed.
“What’s the matter with you?” I ask, pocketing my hands as we reach the bottom and enjoying the way she collides into several objects, humans included.
“Do they know who I am? All of them?” she snaps, hitching her dress further to aid her ability to move quicker. “I shouldn’t be here.” She mumbles the last of it, which amuses me no end given her desire to write a book about the lifestyle.
“What are you talking about?”
“Is this a fucking joke?” she hisses quietly, still wildly scanning anyone within twenty foot of her and rubbing her ass again. “Jesus, Blaine, of all the fucking places to announce my involvement in your sordidity.”
“Sordidity? That’s not a word,” I reply, watching the way she twirls through tight spaces, her ass continuing to ram anything remotely close as she heads for the doorway.
“It is now. I’ve made a new one. You deserve it.” I almost choke on the snort that leaves my nose, chuckling around her innovative word and moving in to decrease the space between us. “And that fucking hurt in there. I mean, who does that? I didn’t even enjoy it.”
“Yes you did. Make up another one,” I say, my mind suddenly fascinated with her ire as she lets the black silk travel along her tanned legs again, fluffing it out and swinging her glare back to me.
“What?”
“Another word up for me, and watch the—” She doesn’t watch anything. She tumbles, regardless of me reaching for her. Her legs splay first, clipping the edge of the bench, her arms flailing as she begins to fall backwards. I might have moved quicker if I hadn’t seen a fully masked and cloaked Delaney coming up behind her, his arms catching her and righting her onto her feet again.
“You let me fall,” she snarls, slapping out at Delaney’s grip on her ass and wincing in the same breath as she spins back to me. “Get off me, will you, whoever you are. Jesus Christ.” There’s an amount of huffing from her mouth after that, followed by what might be brat like stamping feet. “Fuck.” I smirk again, just about managing to contain the laughter that wants to echo out into the night for the first time in however long.
“Nice ass,” Delaney chimes in, still sporting a shit eating grin and looking her over.
“Well, it’s not yours either, or that man’s upstairs, so fuck off,” she spits out, tossing her head as if her hair is down, clearly venomous.
“That’s not friendly. Have you brought an unfriendly one?” Delaney asks, eyeing her up with no interest in the answer. Good or bad.
“Neither are you. Are you one of him too?” she snaps in reply.
“Who?”
“Him,” she says again, pointing her finger at me. “Sordid.”
“I am. I’m very much like him.” He’s nothing like me. He’s all pleasure and amusement, sordid or not.
“You’re nothing like me,” I eventually cut in, having watched their conversation and decided the only place it’s going to get any of us is irritable, worked up more than I currently am, and more than likely giving Alana something she’s not asking for. I extend a hand to her instead, asking her to take it so I can get her attractive legs and heels back on solid tarmac, away from Delaney too.
“Is it free for use?” The man himself asks. Alana scowls, furrowing her brow and sneering at the suggestion, amusing me with her reaction as I consider the thought.
“I’m one hundred percent certain anything here should require compliance and a certain sense of charisma attached to the one asking. The second of which you have none of,” she says, shrugging her hand from mine and tucking her hair back into place. “And the first of which he has just enforced without my consent,” she snaps, swinging her eyes back to me with another glare of disdain. She sucks in a breath and rubs her ass again as she turns back to Delaney. “Unless you’ve got a huge dick in there… Have you?” My own mouth might have gaped at the comment, and Delaney, for once in his life, looks blank. “Well, come on, big boy, whip it out. What does it matter anymore?” Fits of giggles start to come from her mouth, to the point that I actually stare in bemusement, too. She keeps on going, covering her mouth and finally finding a way to contain her mirth as she swings around to look back at me, her eyes scanning my tux. “You might as well, too. Let’s see it. If I’m going to play with it anyway, I might as well have a look. Come on whippy?” Whippy?
“Is it drunk?” Delaney asks, still seeming as mystified.
I don’t know whether to be affronted or charmed as I watch her haughty expression return, and it takes me some time to conjure up a response worthy of such a blatant display of insanity.
“As and when you deserve my cock, don’t worry, you’ll get it,” I eventually answer, moving towards her with every intention of warning her of the inevitable should she continue with her mouth. She knows where she is and should assume that cockiness will get her nowhere at all but cunt deep in a misfortune she isn’t ready for. “Until then, I suggest you take your schoolgirl tone and wrap it up before it gets you in trouble.”
“You can’t talk to me li—” I’m so quick to smother my hand over her lips she has no hope of removing herself from my hold, as my eyes snatch a glimpse at Delaney, flicking my head at the same time to get him to leave. Our host just chuckles, amused at the frivolities, and then wanders off as I tug her towards a more private area. She struggles a little, but it’s hardly a fight, nothing that denotes real fear anyway, which pisses me off.
“I’ll talk to you however I want,” I growl, barely holding in the need to fuck the sass from her given what I’ve just watched upstairs. “Do you know what I want to do to you because of what I’ve just witnessed, Alana?” I ask, weaving us through the maze of pergolas and wooden struts around the terraces. “I want to get my tongue inside you.” Her breath hitches behind my hand, her body tensing in my hold. “See how long you can keep using that filthy fucking mouth when I do.” I manoeuvre her into a partially hidden corner, pulling at her dress as I aim her for a stone table. She mumbles behind my hand, spit leaking onto my skin as she does. “You want to say something?” She nods, her body twisting a little as she does, but still not struggling with any real violence. “I don’t want you to say another word unless it contains begging for my cock.” She gasps a little, her ass beginning to grind into me regardless of the red still imprinted on its surface. “See, this is the way it works. You beg. I play. How’s that cunt doing?” More saliva pours from her mouth, pronouncing her need long before her mind accepts it. “Is it still wet for me?” She keeps her head still as I push her down, levering her at the waist to stick her ass further into the air. “Had this fucked?” I ask, my fingers digging into her ass as I slowly slide my hand from her mouth. I doubt it. Too prissy for anal. “You scream, shout, or do anything other than beg and I’ll give you the quickest break down of sadism I’ve ever delivered. You understand?” She nods again, her cheek resting on the dirty table’s surface as she keeps her gaze to the side and away from me. “Good.”
That’s all I’ve got for the moment. I’m too busy trying to assimilate sensations I haven’t felt for too long. Anticipation wracks my bones, drawing freed thoughts from the depths of me and begging me to expunge fantasies I’ve long since abandoned. My fingers draw the length of her spine, testing her strength, labouring on her muscles and pushing at them to trial their durability.
“Tell me why y
ou floundered up there in the house,” I ask, wondering what set her off as she grinds herself back towards me. I immediately move away, giving her the room she needs to feel exposed. Intimidated. She needs to understand, and this is the quickest way for her to learn about rewards.
“I didn’t think…” she replies quietly, sneaking a look back at me and murmuring the words rather than speaking them aloud. “I thought this would be something else. Dinner maybe. A discussion.” I gaze at her neck, a stray purple stripe falling free of its constraint, enjoying the way its length brings on visions of fucking and biting. “You’re supposed to be research. I didn’t think about how to play the occasion. Who to be.” I raise a brow, amused by her analogy as she lays her head down again and sighs. “I wasn’t prepared to meet those people. I wasn’t prepared to interact with others and be called by my name.” Her body relaxes completely after the final explanation as I move back to smooth my hand across her skin again. I watch it settle, smiling at how quickly she freely gives information in this position, how much softer she becomes in her tone.
“You were scared?”
“No.” She shudders as I reach for the hem of her dress again and run my finger along the inside of her calf, its silky texture causing my own shiver to race through me. “Unprepared. I’m never unprepared. It makes me tense, flustered.”
“And this doesn’t? Stay there.” I drop to my haunches, rucking the fabric higher and letting her scent drift across me. Long toned calves, shapely thighs bare of stockings, just as I like them. I dare my lips against her skin, remembering the taste of a woman who attracts my time, and hear a small moan leave her. “You’re not flustered by me?”
Once Upon A (Stained Duet Book 1) Page 16
