OnlyIfItPleases

by Unknown

  “Your padding—your curves—are delightful. I can do this to you without risking hurting you—”

  “Oh, it hurts all right!”

  He ignored her and kept spanking. “It makes me angry that anyone has told you not to appreciate yourself and your body. That society has told you somehow that you need to be a stick to be attractive. I don’t believe it. And you shouldn’t either. Your body has been an instrument of pleasure to me, and will continue to be so. Even when I saw you weeks before, in other company, you made me hard. Now, when I can have you for my own? Fuck, you’re lovely. Sexy. Hot.” He realized that he really was angry, and that probably meant it was time to stop spanking, even if it wasn’t her he was angry at. He took a step back. “Take off your dress, now.”

  “Yes, Master Hart.” She was looking at him stunned. He couldn’t read her. He’d surprised himself, so he couldn’t blame her for being taken aback. Still, she straightened, turned to him and unzipped the dress before letting it fall to the floor. She didn’t hurry, but she didn’t make a striptease of it either. There was something almost formal about it, as if she’d managed to take the essence from the protocol he had taught her and apply it to the simple act of taking a dress off. Her gaze stayed locked with his the whole time, but he didn’t take it as a challenge.

  “Good girl.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Thank you.”

  He spent a moment drinking in the sight of her body. It wasn’t until he was halfway through, his gaze lowered to her smooth-shaven mound, that he realized that it was perhaps exactly what he needed to be doing to prove his point about her desirability. She moved into the display position without prompting. His cock hardened further. He’d seen her at the club enough to know that she was no exhibitionist, eager to have her body watched at every turn. This was for him, and because he had taught her.

  “Bend over the bed again,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse.

  She turned gracefully and bent over it. It was a little low for her, but rather than bending her knees, she spread her legs. Her pussy glistened. Her ass was delightfully presented in the air. She shifted her legs, finding better symmetry, centering herself. Once again, she’d turned the gesture into protocol.

  “And what do you think we should call this one?” he asked.

  “Um, ass up?”

  That wasn’t formal at all. He laughed. She kept surprising him. “Ass up it is.”

  “Thank you, Master Hart.”

  Despite her arousal, he could see from the way her muscles tensed that she was getting ready for another beating. Which wasn’t at all what he had in mind.

  He unzipped his pants and rolled a condom onto his hard cock. Then he plunged into her, going balls-deep in a single thrust. She cried out as he filled her. She was so tight and so wet. He gripped her hips and moved inside her, thrusting repeatedly, savoring her moans and grunts of pleasure.

  Holding still for a moment, he slipped his hand between her body and the covers, down her smooth belly until he found her clit with his questing fingers. He wanted to tease her, to bring her to the brink. How he was going to come he didn’t know. Maybe on her back. Maybe he’d pull her around at the last minute. Or he could come right where he was. It hadn’t taken much to bring him to the edge, but he was sure he could last if he needed to.

  “Don’t come,” he told her. He took his fingers off her clit.

  “Yes, Master Hart.”

  He kept thrusting inside her, enjoying the tight, slippery feel of her pussy. He listened to her breath as her excitement rose.

  “I can’t hold any longer,” she said, her voice almost a whimper.

  He was close himself, and wanted nothing more than to keep pounding inside her. But he stopped. He wasn’t going to let her fail him, and he knew if she came without permission she’d feel bad after. And if he gave his permission, she wouldn’t have the tension he wanted in her for the evening’s predicament scene. He wanted her needy. He pulled back, withdrawing.

  She had been holding herself up with her elbows, but now she relaxed them and slumped forward, spent. Her face was turned sideways, and it was hard to tell what she was feeling, other than that she was catching her breath.

  He didn’t know what he was feeling himself. He had been barely in control when he was spanking her. He was shaky now, on the edge. What happened to all my self-control and my skill? My ability to read a submissive? He’d had subs tell him he was psychic, but he couldn’t read this one half the time, it seemed.

  She was saying something, but he couldn’t quite catch it. His cock nestled against the crease of her ass and still more of their skin touched as he leaned forward. It sounded like she was complaining about not being able to come, but he wanted to be sure. “Again,” he requested. He bit back a please. He wanted to assert his control, for both their sakes.

  “You didn’t get to come,” she said.

  She wasn’t complaining about her own missed orgasm at all. He blinked, startled. She twisted around beneath him.

  “Sorry, Master Hart,” she murmured, just barely more audible this time. She pulled off the condom and slipped her mouth over his cock.

  He knew from her voice that she was truly sorry, and thought she’d done something wrong. But it wasn’t her fault. God, it was hard to think with her mouth working him like that, lips as tight as her pussy and tongue swirling against his underside.

  She doesn’t want you to think, idiot. She wants you to come. And come he did, hot spurts coming from the base of his cock and feeling like hot lava coursing upward, finally bursting into her mouth. She swallowed him greedily, not stopping until he was completely spent.

  He didn’t trust himself to speak.

  She let him slip out and gave him one last, loving lick. “Thank you, Master Hart.”

  He stroked her cheek. “That was beautiful.”

  She visibly relaxed, but still looked uncertain. She was vulnerable and needed holding. Regardless of his own questioning of himself, she needed him to be confident, to be her protector. There was no reason for her to think things had gone any way but how he planned.

  He pulled her up so that her legs weren’t over the edge and she could lay her head on his chest. “You’re absolutely beautiful,” he told her again.

  “Thank you.” She snuggled up and closed her eyes. She rested her hand on his softening cock without trying to bring it back to life. He could insist that she ask before doing that. He didn’t feel like it.

  After a moment, he glanced around for a clock. He didn’t see one. His own timepiece was his phone, and that was in his pants. Her body was draped over it and he didn’t want to make her move, so he just held her and kissed her hair and told her she was a very special woman.

  Chapter Seven

  “Oh shit.”

  Vanessa had gone to sleep hearing him say the most lovely things, and it wasn’t the best way to wake up. Hart was holding his phone and looking at it with annoyance.

  “We’re running late,” he said. “Sorry, hon. Get in that dress and grab everything. We have to go.”

  She wanted to pout but she resisted. If they were late, they were late, and he was right that they should move. She pulled herself up, grabbed the dress and put it on. She’d put on a few pounds since she’d bought it, and it was even snugger than she remembered. It had a built-in bra, and the tight fabric emphasized her breasts and showed just a hint of cleavage. Sadly, it didn’t hide the curve of her tummy or the width of her hips. She gave it a tug in back, suspecting she’d be doing that all evening to make sure it covered her ass.

  “Panties?” she asked hopefully.

  “No. And we don’t have time anyway.” He pulled up his pants and scooped up the clothes for tomorrow.

  She went to her closet.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Shoes.” She grabbed a pair of heels and some sneakers for the game. “I’m good.” She could put them on in the car. Walking across the gravel was going to hurt, but there wasn’t much of i
t and what was a little pain? That was all part of the game, although gravel on bare feet wasn’t her idea of good kink.

  He nodded and led the way down the stairs. She followed, feeling disoriented from what had just happened.

  He fucked me in my bed. In my parents’ house. She chided herself for thinking that, but no matter how long she lived there alone it didn’t feel entirely hers. She knew she hung on to it for the memories, and the feeling that she’d be dishonoring her parents’ memory to give up on what they had left her. She wasn’t sure why she’d never had sex in the house, but she hadn’t. She’d always gone to Walt’s place because it made him feel more in control. Other dates she’d kept at arm’s length, not wanting them to know where she lived until she was sure they were going to be more relationship than fling, and they hadn’t been. And before that she’d been off at college, getting halfway to a doctorate before deciding she really didn’t want to be an English professor.

  A part of her felt liberated. Another part was nagging her that she’d done something wrong. She knew people in the scene who loved to be “little”, to retreat into a psyche that had some of the characteristics of a younger self. She wasn’t one of them. When she was doing BDSM she wanted to be all adult. But she’d just sucked a man off in the bed she’d gotten as a teenager, with her teddy bear watching. It felt strange.

  And it was even stranger that she’d totally wanted to do it. She’d been frustrated beyond belief, but she didn’t think he’d let her come, even if she begged. She’d needed some kind of conclusion to it all, and so she’d finished him off and it had made her feel better. She could still taste him. It took some of the edge off. She’d always been a very empathic person.

  She took the first step onto the gravel, realizing he could have parked in the garage if she’d gotten the door fixed. He put out a hand. “Wait. I’ll turn the car around and you can put on your tennis shoes while I do.”

  She withdrew her foot. Those rocks were sharper than she’d remembered. Or maybe her skin was on high alert right now from all the sex. “Thank you, Master Hart.”

  By the time he reversed the car into position next to her, she had her shoes on. She was glad he understood that heels wouldn’t work on the gravel, but it was just a step into the car. “Sorry for the rush,” he said as she climbed up. “That was totally worth being late for. I’m not sure how much dinner we’re going to get. Can you stomach fast-food drive-thru?”

  “I’ve stomached it more times than I’d like to admit.” When work got heavy, she often grabbed a very quick lunch. It was a habit she’d told herself she should get away from, but she couldn’t be away from the shop for long and risk losing customers.

  He gave her a curious glance. “That’s an odd answer. But I’ll make it up to you with a proper meal tomorrow. It’s okay once in a while but I don’t like to make a habit of it.”

  She changed to heels in the car. By the time they arrived at the house where the party was, they’d both had a burger, some welcome caffeine, and some even more welcome conversation. He’d worked his way up from being a machine operator to running his own business, and he obviously had a passion for his job. She glanced at her watch. It was eight ten, so she was guessing they were ten minutes late. He didn’t race ahead of her, but grabbed some large bags and then waited while she made her way up the walk in her heels. She was stable on them, but she definitely couldn’t keep up with his long strides if he chose to walk fast. With him showing no signs of impatience, she felt she could take a few moments to enjoy the way they made her hips move. They made her feel sexy—especially when she saw that he was watching her and smiling.

  The house was an ordinary house, with probably three bedrooms and a couple of bathrooms. The host, who introduced himself as Kevin, was quick to point out where they were. “Go use one,” said Hart, swatting her lightly on the backside.

  “I don’t really need to.”

  “You’re going to be tied up for a while. I suggest you go now.”

  Good point.

  When she returned, he was setting things up downstairs in the basement. The room was packed with people, even though there were only a dozen, and she had to make her way through. She really wished he’d let her wear panties, because some of the people were on the floor, and could probably look right up her skirt. But she doubted she’d be wearing the dress for long anyway.

  There was a hook in the ceiling at one end of the room, and Hart stood on a chair and tied a rope to one. It didn’t look like the bamboo silk he’d used earlier. This rope looked rougher. She wondered how it would feel. She’d find out soon enough. Or maybe not—he tied a pulley to the end of it, so maybe it served some other function. He gestured her to another chair, the only empty one in the room. She sat down, facing the rest of the people, feeling their eyes upon her.

  There was something odd about the group, and it took her a moment to figure out what it was. They were dressed mostly pretty normally. The fetish gear she was used to at the club was absent, although a couple of the women had gone for deep cleavage and there was an abundance of black. But no one was kneeling. Even the people who were sitting on the floor so that the people behind them could see looked like they were probably Doms from the way they carried themselves. Her heart skipped a beat. She’d always taken comfort from the presence of other women she thought of as more like her. Even pain sluts like Carol. A room full of Doms, all staring at her, was a scary thing. She started sweating.

  “Problems, little one?” Hart had stopped what he was doing and was looking at her with concern.

  “Why aren’t there any subs here?” she whispered.

  “No room. We would if we could. It’s better for everyone to learn together. And the Doms like to see the subs’ reactions to the things I talk about. But with only a little space, it makes sense for the Doms to learn and take what they learn back to their relationships.” He shrugged. “It’s the best we can do. Take your shoes off, please.”

  She nodded and removed her shoes. There’d be plenty of room at my place. She wondered if he was thinking that too. She wasn’t going to suggest it now, and maybe not ever. Her parents would roll over in their graves. Still, if it meant the subs could come…she’d think about it. Just a demonstration wouldn’t be so bad. It wasn’t like a play party, with people having sex in the sitting room.

  Hart turned to face everyone. “Sorry I’m late. I’ve been out driving for a lot of the day and I misestimated. I’m Master Hart, and this is my very lovely demo bottom Vanessa, and we’ll be teaching you about predicament bondage.”

  “I think we have a pretty good idea why you’re late,” said an elegant Domme dressed in black from head to toe—even her hair was black. She smiled at Vanessa. “And I don’t think any of us blame you.”

  Everyone laughed. Vanessa wasn’t sure whether to feel proud or to crawl into a hole, but she made an effort to smile. She wanted her behavior to reflect well on Hart. Although maybe that’s not how I should be thinking of it. These are all Doms. And maybe, when Hart’s done with me…

  She didn’t really want to think of Hart being done with her. But we have just one day left.

  “Thank you, Jannah. Now then. Predicament bondage is a kind of bondage where the sub is presented with some kind of choice and something to overcome. It can take lots of different forms, and after our demonstration, or even during it, we’ll brainstorm. I’m pretty sure you have lots of ideas I’ve never thought of. The hard part is figuring out how to do it all safely, and that means both physical safety and emotional safety.”

  He’d dumped some rope out of his bag, and he picked up a long length of red nylon that already had knots tied in it. “So here’s a very simple predicament…light on the bondage, but it will demonstrate what I’m talking about.” He went to a hook on one side of the room, tied the rope to it, and then stretched it to a hook on the other side so that it was between him and the audience and a few feet off the floor, sagging a bit toward the middle. Then he turned and s
ignaled Vanessa to come forward.

  That doesn’t look too bad. Vanessa approached him. As she did, he crossed to the other side of the rope, so when she got up to him she was right next to the rope herself.

  “Display, Vanessa.”

  Vanessa smiled. She had this down cold now, and felt confident doing it. She parted her legs, surprised he hadn’t taken her dress off yet.

  “Good girl.” He tugged the rope down. “Put one leg over the rope, please, and face the far wall.”

  She did so. When he let go of the rope, it sat against her pussy, but there wasn’t any particular tension there.

  “So, a simple challenge,” Hart said. He moved behind her and suddenly the rope tightened. She got up on her toes, trying to relieve the pressure of the rope. “Comfy?” he asked her.

  “Not unless it pleases you,” she said. So much nicer than saying no to her Dom in public. So much more truthful than saying yes.

  “Mmm, you are well-trained, aren’t you?”

  She glowed. “Only if it pleases you, Master Hart.”

  “Would you like to get off? I mean, off the rope. Not as in having an orgasm. Although for right now—you have permission.”

  “Thank you, Master Hart. Only if it pleases you.”

  “No, please stay on. But I’ll make a deal with you. If you can move up this rope to the other end, I’ll get you off—of the rope.”

  That didn’t sound so bad. She moved. The rope was nylon, fairly smooth. As long as she moved slowly, it wouldn’t burn. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, and she had to stay on her toes, but it was doable. She tried to shut out the fact that everyone was watching.

  “So there you are. You’ve given your sub a challenge, something for her, or him, to overcome. Although this one works best on women. What are the dangers here?”

  One Dom lifted his hand. “What if she can’t stay on her toes?”

  “Then the rope will press her a little harder. Uncomfortable, but not dangerous.”

  A Dom raised his hand and said, “Rope burn.”