Up close, he’s even more handsome than he was from across the room, putting my memory of him to shame. His white suit is crisp and spotless, his winged mask glinting in the soft lighting. His eyes, which are a deep brown, continue to hold my gaze, enchanting me with their intensity. My legs tremble, and it’s hard not to show the anxiety coursing through my limbs as I resist the urge to reach out and run my fingertips along his chiseled jawline, wanting to feel him to make sure he’s real.
I can’t believe this is the same man that took control of my body the other night. The man who wanted me. The man I safe worded and walked away from.
I swallow as I take in all of him in his majestic glory, barely remembering to breathe. He’s almost too sexy to be real. He radiates a kind of cold power that makes me shiver, his eyes filled with dark secrets I know should horrify me, but only serve to turn me on even more. It’s an odd contrast, the darkness in his eyes, and the pure white he’s wearing, but I fucking love it.
For a moment, I consider kneeling before him. I’ve seen other women do it, but I’m not sure if I should. I’m not even sure what we are, or what this is yet. He’s not my Master, and yet...
He chuckles as he appraises me, his deep rich baritone sending electric shocks through my clit. “Do you like it?” he asks, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement. He must be able to sense my anxiety and uncertainty, and it pleases him immensely. “Like what?” I ask breathlessly, trying in vain to seem confident.
He smiles at me broadly. “Your dress.”
I know he thinks I must be a fucking idiot. How could I be so clueless? What else could he have been talking about? The snow in Antarctica?
It’s because he’s so damn hot that I can’t think around him, I tell myself. I blush furiously, my cheeks flaming. “I do, thank you,” I reply.
“You mean 'thank you, Sir',” he corrects me firmly, an eyebrow arched sternly.
My skin pricks at my mistake, the heat of shame making it feel as if my cheeks might burn off. “Sorry, Sir. I thank you so much for the dress, Sir. It’s beautiful.” My words almost trip over themselves to get out. My heart seems to trip in my chest as well.
His eyes roll over my curves, and my skin tingles everywhere they seem to go. “Beautiful,” he agrees huskily. I can only stand his hungry gaze for a moment before I’m forced to look away. All I can hear is the thumping of my heart in my chest. He isn’t having it. He cups my chin, forcing me to look back at him, and pulls me in close, his hot touch burning my flesh. As he gazes into my eyes I can almost feel the possessiveness radiating from him. It should make me want to run away, but it only draws me to him like a moth to a flame. I didn’t think it possible, but I desire him even more than the night before.
“Come, my flower.” His words are not a request, but an order. I must obey. Flower.
He leads me through the club, walking with a confidence that’s undeniable. As we walk through the hall, several men look our way, but each time they do, my Sir looks at them as if daring them to challenge him, and they look away. I thrill at the power he radiates, impressed by how some of these men, who are powerful in their own right, don’t want to fuck with him.
It makes me feel secure. Safe.
Still, I feel eyes on me as we walk past the playrooms. This is different now. Before I was hidden in plain sight, but now that I’m with him, they’re all watching. I pick at the hem on the dress, realizing how self-conscious I feel as we walk down the darkened hallway, past the double bodyguards, and to the stairwell of the dungeon.
There are a few more people here than the night before. I wish it were empty; I want privacy, but that’s not going to happen. All eyes turn on us as we enter the room. Even the couple who obviously had the attention of the crowd before, stops to stare at us. Anxiety twists my stomach, and I look away.
“Look at me,” my Sir commands.
I bring my gaze up to his eyes, trying not to shiver. In the background, the couples go back to their sessions and I hear the sing of whips flying through the air and smacking against flesh, followed by pained, but pleasured cries.
“What are you most interested in?” he asks, his deep voice punctuated by another smack. I want to look at the couple, the woman writhing in her rope binds as the man alternates the vibrator and the whip.
I shake my head, trying to keep my gaze focused on him as another lusty cry echoes off the walls. “I’m not sure. There’s so much…” my voice trails off as I try to find the words. My heart won’t stop racing in this room, especially standing here with him. I don’t want to tell him that I’m partly here for research, and that I want to live out the fantasies I’ve read about in my favorite erotic romance novels. He might not like that. It’ll only give him more evidence of my inexperience.
His eyes search my face. “Why do you keep coming down here?” he asks.
Smack. Smack. Smack. Another cry assaults my ears. “The pain,” I whisper almost as if in response to the cracking of the whip and the cries that follow. “I’m curious.” I swallow thickly and add, “I want to know why they beg for more.”
He arches an inquisitive brow, the trace of a smile on his lips. The thought that I’ve pleased him with that knowledge makes my pussy heat for him. “Have you been whipped before?”
I shake my head vigorously, my breath quickening, my nipples pebbling. “No.”
A grin plays across his firm lips as if my reply delights him in a way that I can’t imagine. “Would you like to?” he asks, his deep voice dipping lower than I thought possible.
My heart races as I gaze into his eager expression, my pussy clenching with need. “Yes,” I whisper. I’ve read about the pleasure it can bring. Every scene I've read turned me on with a passion that surprised me, and now I get to experience this sensation firsthand. I’m excited to see what it’s like, but also apprehensive. To be completely honest, I’m terrified.
“Come.” Taking my hand, he leads me over to the Saint Andrew’s Cross. I watch as he loosens the leather straps on the cross, my legs slightly trembling, my pulse racing. His grip on my wrist is firm as he binds it to the cross. And then the other.
A guard I hadn’t noticed before steps forward, a serious expression on his face.
“Lollipop is her safe word,” Sir says before the guard can say anything, his voice laced with irritation. He doesn’t even turn to face the guard as he straps my ankles to the cross, spreading my legs. The cool air flows up my white dress, and my heart stalls as the guard looks at me, searching my face for any objection. I clear my throat and nod, trying to swallow my heart as it tries to climb out of my throat, then he steps back into the shadows. Sir moves on to binding my other ankle, as if nothing had happened. As he tightens the leather strap, a realization washes over me.
This is real.
My heart skips a beat and I swallow thickly. This is not a fantasy I’ve read about in my books. If he whips me, I’m really going to feel it. I gulp again, my chest rising and falling sporadically. Based on everything I’ve read; I should like it. Love it, even. At least... I hope.
But it’s a fucking whip.
Trembling with anxiety, I watch as Sir grabs a cat o' nine tails off the wall, and the ends of the braided tails look frayed. He holds it up for me to see before letting the tails tickle down my body, over the pure white silk and down my belly. To my surprise, they’re soft to the touch, but at the same time thick and unforgiving.
My throat constricts as anxiety threatens to overwhelm me, and I find myself struggling a little against my binds as sweat beads my brow. I need to chill. I can endure this. I’ve read about it in my books. The pain mixes in with pleasure, and you don’t feel it after a while. Or so they say.
I need to just keep telling myself that, and I’ll be fine.
He runs the whip along my flesh again, and I almost laugh at the sensation. It tickles. But I know it won’t for long. I suck in a breath at the pain I know is coming.
Sir gentles his hand on my waist, his touch soft and
comforting. “Relax, don’t tense your body.” His command is soft at the shell of my ear. His low voice is seductive and washes a sense of ease over me. My breathing still comes in deep, but this time it relaxes me. He relaxes me. I loosen my hands and try to ease my muscles. Relax. I must obey him. Don’t tense.
“I could use this to make you feel… so many different things,” Sir says, his breathing heavy and husky, and his eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them. I know he’s turned on by what he’s about to do, but that still doesn’t make me feel at ease.
Without another word, Sir pulls back his arm and then brings it forward with an almost animalistic grunt, the whip singing through the air.
Smack!
I gasp as the air is ripped from my lungs and the thick leather lashes my flesh, my raw cry ripping through the chamber. Fuck! It hurts, the sting bringing tears to my eyes. But at the same time, my nipples harden and my pussy clenches repeatedly around nothing, my breath coming in short, panting gasps as I try to recover.
I pull at the binds as Sir runs his fingers gently over the slight marks. From the pain, I expect the marks to be a bright red, maybe even breaking my skin, but they’re merely a soft pink. All on my upper thighs. The throbbing pain dims instantly.
His touch is so soft, but it feels like electricity, directly connected to my clit. That’s the best way I can explain it.
It’s an odd sensation, feeling pain and pleasure at the same time, but I like it. The adrenaline that’s rushing through my body is downright intoxicating.
Sir gazes at me, watching my reaction intently, his eyes blazing with intensity. “Did you like that, my flower?” His deep voice is low and husky, his breathing ragged. I can tell he enjoyed the lash as much as I did, his crotch sporting a huge bulge pressing against his dark pants. My mouth waters just looking at it.
“Yes,” I whisper weakly, my limbs trembling uncontrollably, my palms moist and clammy as I clench my fists and teeth at the residual stinging pain.
He cocks a brow at me as he says, “Yes?”
I realize my mistake, but it’s too late.
“Sir, my flower,” he says as he twirls the whip a bit, watching the tails sing in the air. “You keep forgetting.”
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
I close my eyes, tensing my body.
“You should be punished,” he says in a husky voice while he grips the tails of the whip in his left hand. “A little more pain this time.”
The sing of the whip whistles in my ears followed by a powerful lash against my thighs that forces another raw cry from my lips.
The pain is more intense this time, making my skin prick all over my body, my flesh red and heated in the areas where the leather tails have struck me. It’s crazy what it does to me. It hurts like fuck, but it feels so good. I’m wrapped in almost dizzying euphoria, the room feeling as if it’s spinning around me.
After a moment, I force my eyes open to see Sir gazing at me, an amused grin curling the corner of his lips.
“You will call me Sir,” he says firmly with authority, his chest heaving from exertion. He put a lot of strength behind that last blow, and I can feel it, my flesh feeling like it’s caught fire. The flames sending a hot sensation to my pussy.
“Yes, Sir,” I gasp, barely able to fill my lungs with breath, my body teeming with pain and arousal.
The words haven't even finished leaving my lips before his fingers are tracing the marks and then his lips, and then his tongue. I hardly pay attention to it. Pain and pleasure become my existence as the room whirls around me, and my vision blurs almost to the point of darkness.
He pulls away from me while my eyes are closed. I instantly miss his soothing touch over the stinging heated marks.
Pain and pleasure, wrapped in leather. The sensation is addicting.
I want him to whip me again, harder, taking me to the next level, but a part of me knows I won’t be able to take it. If he does it again, it will push me beyond the brink. I don’t want to say it, but the word lollipop starts to form on my lips as I sense him preparing for another blow.
As if sensing what I’m about to say, Sir suddenly drops the whip to the floor, the loud clack on the floor making it obvious even with my eyes closed. He steps right in front of me, his shoes thudding against the stone floor, his breathing heavy and ragged from his exertion. Close up, I can see the sweat on his brow and the slight perspiration making his dress shirt cling to his chest. The smell of his masculinity fills my lungs and I breathe it in deeply, almost as if I’m inhaling a powerful drug.
“You’ve had enough, flower?” he asks me although we both know it’s a statement, his deep, sexy voice low and filled with lust.
I’m unable to speak, my skin burning like it’s on fire, but I manage to shake my head no. I can’t be left like this. After that, I need a release. Now.
He grins at me, as if expecting my inability to answer, and runs his powerful fingers along my heated flesh, my skin stinging wherever he touches. A sibilant hiss of pain escapes my lips as I tremble with need at his touch, watching him trail his fingers down further until he reaches where I’m soaking wet.
He pulls his fingers away, and I instantly pull against the leather straps to bring his touch back to me. “Yes, Sir,” I answer with the last bit of breath I have.
I watch him close his eyes, a satisfied groan leaving his lips at being able to touch my pussy as he feels my wet, dripping folds. I shiver at his seductive touch, moaning with pleasure.
“You’re soaking wet for me, flower,” he growls, slowly rubbing my clit in a circular motion, causing me to throw my head back and my eyelids to flutter. Fuck, his touch feels so good, heightened by the pain he’s given me. I’ve read about this, but nothing could prepare me for it.
I want more of this, more of him. But before I can say anything, he suddenly curves his fingers into my pussy, stroking me hard and fast against my front wall. I cry out, fighting against my binds, my eyes rolling into the back of my head. I quickly forget the harsh pain stinging my skin, it feels so fucking good. Wet noises mix in with the pleasured cries of the other Submissives surrounding me as my thighs tremble around his arm, his fingers massaging the walls of my pussy. I let out several cries as I struggle against my binds, wanting to arch my back, but unable to. The intensity of the sensation is driving me wild, and I know I’m not going to be able to take it for much longer.
A thought makes my breath come to a halt, interrupting my pleasure for just a moment, although I’m not sure if he can tell. I’ve yet to be touched by a man. Not in any way. My anxiety courses through me, but the pleasure is too much.
Sir stares up at me as he pushes his fingers deeper inside of me, his eyes burning into my face, almost bidding me to cum for him. But all I can think is, can he tell? Does he know my secret? My head thrashes, and I close my eyes. I don’t want to think about it. Right now, I’m someone else. It’s only a fantasy.
I writhe against my binds, whipping my head this way and that way, crying out for release, a fiery crescendo building inside the pit of my stomach. Fuck. I can’t take it. I’m about to cum.
Just as I’m about to find my release, Sir stops, leaving me gasping for breath, my forehead covered in a cold sweat. Anger surges through my breasts as I stare down at him in disbelief, my pussy clenching in fury as the orgasm it was chasing flees.
Sir rises to his feet and leans in, giving me an intensely hungry look as I breathe raggedly in his face. “You’ve been a good girl and you can cum, but I want to fuck you and make you cum on my dick,” he explains as my lips part in protest.
His words should fill me with overwhelming excitement, but they don’t.
My desire ebbs somewhat as I stare into his hungry eyes, a feeling of wariness washing over my limbs. I wasn’t expecting it to go this far. Him getting me off with his fingers was fine, but I’m a virgin. And though he’s sexy as sin, and turns me on like nothing I’ve ever felt before, I’m not going to give myself to him. Not like this.
I don’t even know his name.
A part of me wants it badly, though. As my breath comes in frantic pants, I can already imagine him plunging deep inside me with his thick cock, fucking me with a ferocity that would have me screaming with pleasure within seconds.
But I know it’ll be a mistake.
Looking at the absolute hunger in his eyes, I feel the heavy weight of fear pressing down upon my chest, constricting my breathing.
I have to break this off before I cave to the desire he makes so hard to resist.
Lollipop, a voice urges in my head as Sir moves in closer, softly brushing his hard bulge against my leg and causing my skin to prick and my pussy to throb with insatiable need. Say it now before it’s too late!
My skin flushing a deep scarlet shade, I suck in a deep breath, parting my lips to say the word that will bring me to safety.
Before the first syllable escapes my mouth, he surprises me by suddenly releasing me from my binds.
Immediately, I slump to the cold stone floor covered in sweat, my limbs sore, stinging and red, feeling drained and exhausted, his arm wrapped around my waist and holding me up.
“Are your ankles alright?” he asks me, bending over to massage my wrists, his voice coming out clear.
A feeling of confusion washes over me at the tone of his voice. His demeanor, which was hot and heavy moments before, is replaced by a coolness that makes my skin burn.
He knows you’re hiding something, the voice at the back of my head says as my heart pounds wildly within my chest. And that you were going to safe word him.
I hate not being able to tell him the truth. But I’m not ready. Not ready to tell him, not ready to lose my V-card, I’m not even ready for a real M/s relationship… or whatever this is.
“Yes,” I barely manage with a strained whisper as he helps me to my feet.
Owned: Highest Bidder Page 6
