Knowing the Ropes

by Teresa Noelle Roberts

  Even if the idea of being his little sex slave, locked in a cage until needed, was something she’d go home and dream about while she and her Magic Wand spent some quality time together. Definitely a hot fantasy—but you just didn’t say something like that to someone less than five minutes after meeting them.

  He had a twinkle in his eye, though, a slight smile playing on his lips. Maybe he wasn’t serious.

  She hoped he wasn’t serious, because she didn’t want to have to do something vile to him with a plastic fork. She didn’t think the plastic would be up to the task.

  Craig had been almost as outrageous, and he had been serious.

  She didn’t want to believe Nick was serious. But if it was a joke and she stabbed him with a fork, it would be hard to recover.

  Only one thing to do, then. Treat it as the joke it had to be—loudly enough that, if she was wrong, she’d make a fool of him.

  She gave in to her impulse to crack up, and crack up loudly. “I see you like teasing the newbies,” she exclaimed between whoops of laughter. “That’s number five from Alison’s Doms to Duck list, right? Or was it six?”

  The twinkle in his eye got brighter, and he broke into a goofy yet charming grin that reminded her of the kind of likeable geek boys she’d dated in college, the kind who’d sometimes forget plans because they were caught up in a computer game but could always get her to forgive them by making her laugh.

  “Give the lady a Kewpie doll! She got it in one! And she passed the common-sense test.”

  “Test?” She couldn’t decide whether she should be annoyed or amused and settled for a little bit of both. She probably ought to be more annoyed than she was, but between the smile, his general brain-melting sexiness and the fact that it was kind of funny, the annoyance couldn’t work up a good head of steam. “What would constitute failing?”

  “Trying to take me up on it.” Then his face changed, got a little more serious. “I’m glad you laughed. I was trying to be clever and realized just too late that it might not have been the smartest thing to do. If it hadn’t come off as a joke, you’d have been justified in throwing your drink at me or remembering you had to walk your nonexistent dog and leaving. It was out of line.”

  “No problem.” Any irritation with the “test” dissipated in the wake of the apology. “I can’t imagine anyone taking it seriously for more than a second or two.”

  “You’d be amazed. I’d bet that kid would buy it and probably kneel and start begging. Notice I didn’t try it on her.” He pointed toward a little Goth waif with tousled dyed black hair wearing a minute black T-shirt that read “Take Me”, a microscopic black leather skirt and a collar that looked like it came from PetSmart. Her nametag read “slave kat”, the lower case apparently deliberate. If someone hadn’t been checking ID at the door, Selene would have guessed she was still in high school.

  “I cheated this time, though. I saw you talking with Alison when I came in, and she looked like she was actually enjoying the conversation. That’s a good sign.”

  He smiled again, a smile that went better with the silken-menace voice he’d used earlier. “I wasn’t kidding about the lovely part. The rest was a joke—a bad one—but I got this teenage urge to bring the conversation around to sex, even in a silly way, as soon as I saw you.”

  Oh really?

  Selene’s ears—and nipples—perked up.

  Even though he’d been joking when he’d made his voice go all silky and menacing, she’d bet he’d do it when it mattered.

  At the thought, her mouth went dry.

  Her pussy was another story.

  Oh boy, was it ever. She was flooded just talking to him.

  She knew she shouldn’t go home and act out her most dangerous, decadent fantasies with someone she’d just met—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t think about it in loving, explicit detail.

  The voices of her mother and thousands of female ancestors warned her that it was far too soon to tell if he were Mr. Right.

  She told them to shut up. Looking at someone as a potential kinky Mr. Right was a great way to get in way over her head. At this point, she needed a friend with benefits, a playmate, someone trustworthy who’d help her explore some of her fantasies and see if they worked.

  Could Nick be that man?

  It was probably premature to consider it seriously, but her body was definitely of the opinion that the answer was yes, yes, yes.

  He could apologize when he stepped over the line. That put him ahead of half her ex-boyfriends right there.

  Nick’s eyes were following Selene’s red sundress and mane of light brown hair as she headed toward the restroom when he noticed a potential problem. Craig Whittaker was hitting on the little lost barely-of-age lamb.

  That wouldn’t be a problem if the girl had been reacting with the feminist rage Craig could call forth in the mildest of women, but she seemed to be hanging on his words, wide-eyed and excited. Craig had an arm around her and was grinning like a hyena that had just met a particularly dumb gazelle.

  Time to intervene.

  Nick put on his best I’m-in-charge face and headed across the room toward Craig and his victim, moving casually but with purpose. He pretended he was walking past the pair but instead stopped abruptly and faked a double-take. “Craig,” he said, sounding much friendlier than he felt. “Good to see you, man! Heard about your daughter getting into Dartmouth Medical School. Your wife must be thrilled.”

  The “lost lamb” pulled away from Craig, frowning. “You have a daughter older than me? And a wife?” she said, her voice squeaky with disgust. “Does she know you’re here hitting on someone younger than your kid?”

  Craig was undeterred. “You need a man with experience, Kat, someone to guide you and shape you. A true slave needs…”

  “You are so full of it. Tell that to your wife, asshole!”

  Craig drew himself up taller. “You, little girl, are not a slave. You’re not even a submissive. A real submissive would know her place.”

  And he walked away.

  Young Kat’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry,” she said, sounding as crushed as if she’d just buried her mother. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know anything yet. I don’t know my place, like Master Craig said, and I…”

  Then, to Nick’s dismay, she dropped to her knees and burst into tears.

  This, inevitably, was the moment when Selene came back.

  Of all the ways he could think of to impress a woman, having a weeping teenager groveling at his feet was pretty low on the list, unless by “impress” you meant “impress her with what an asshole you are”. She probably thought he’d tried that joke on the kid and the kid had taken him seriously.

  That was obviously what was going through her mind when she stormed over, saying, “Nick, what did you do to her?”

  “Nothing,” the girl sobbed. “He was just there. He’s being nice to me, more than I deserve. I screwed up bad. I yelled at a master. I can’t believe I did that! Aren’t I supposed to kneel to…someone?”

  Selene rolled her eyes at Nick over the girl’s head. She looked concerned, but he could tell that she was also fighting not to chuckle.

  That made him feel less guilty about his own urge to laugh at poor melodramatic small-k kat and how quickly things got ridiculous. Then again, Craig was good at making things get ridiculous.

  Nick quickly gestured at Craig’s back. “Someone didn’t take no well and started ranting at her about ‘true slave behavior’.”

  “But that’s true, isn’t it?” Kat said in a small voice. “I said no, and a real slave never says no. At least that’s what the masters I’ve talked to online told me.”

  “Oh, puh-lease! You shouldn’t believe everything you hear online, girlfriend,” Selene said. Then she mouthed, Go get Alison.

  Good call. The newbies, especially the youngest and most hapless, were her special charges.

  By the time he came back with Alison, Selene had one arm around the crying girl, saying,
“Obviously a case of brains melting in the heat. You forgot tact. He forgot he was married. His brain melt was worse than yours. And there’s nothing wrong with saying no. Doms aren’t gods, you know. We just like to pretend they are—as long as it’s fun.”

  Two things entered Nick’s head simultaneously.

  One was that he liked Selene’s attitude. She was kind but not squishy about it, and he bet she didn’t take shit from anyone. She might take orders, if it entertained her, but not shit.

  And she got it. She might be new to the scene, but she got that it was about people shaping fantasies, not fantasies shaping people.

  That was more than Natalie ever understood. She really thought it was all about living out The Story of O, and never mind that half the stuff in The Story of O wasn’t even physically possible, let alone a good idea.

  Part of him immediately felt guilty for the negative thought about Natalie. Yeah, she was a little bit crazy, but for a while, crazy had been hot, and he’d encouraged her.

  The rest of him decided that he wasn’t leaving without Selene’s phone number and e-mail—or ideally, with Selene herself.

  As Alison whisked Kat away, probably to the women’s room, Selene grabbed his arm. “So,” she asked conspiratorially, “what really happened?”

  “Pretty much what you heard. The guy’s been part of Kinksters for a while. He came in with this ‘I am a true Master and superior to anything female’ thing, but people come in to this with all kinds of crazy ideas; we figured he’d learn. Then he gets pulled in as a contractor on my software project, and I find out he’s married.”

  “I suppose it would be too much to hope that it’s an open marriage?”

  “Not likely if he hasn’t mentioned a wife to anyone here, let alone brought her to meet the gang. So when I saw him hitting on Kat, I thought I should drop the wife-bomb. The rest, you saw, although you missed the amazing way he turned being wrong back on her.”

  He spouted off Craig’s most appalling, taken-straight-from-cheap-porn lines in what he hoped was a good imitation of Craig’s arrogant, slightly nasal voice.

  Selene sputtered with laughter. “My God—him! This has to be the same idiot who hit on me earlier, the one who used lines that would make a Neanderthal blush. That poor kid! I’d been envying her courage. At her age, I wouldn’t have had had the nerve to come to something like this. But maybe it’s just as well. I missed out on some good clean dirty fun, but at least I had a chance to grow some common sense before I got started.”

  Common sense. What a concept. Yes, he could definitely get to like this woman. The big brown eyes, cute smile and killer curves didn’t hurt, but the attitude really appealed to him.

  Chapter Three

  The meet-and-greet ended at five o’clock. Alison and Garth came over to say good-bye to Selene and Nick. While Garth and Nick chatted, Selene touched Alison’s arm and asked, “Confab in the lady’s room?”

  Alison let Selene pull her just a few steps away. It occurred to Selene that Alison probably didn’t want to interrupt Garth to say where she was going, so she was staying in sight. Then Alison leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “If it’s about Nick, he’s a great guy. He’s one of Garth’s best friends, and he’s pretty much the opposite of a dom to duck. I’m going to do the responsible-friend thing and say you should just talk and smooch tonight, but if you wind up playing, I know he’ll play safe.”

  Selene hugged her and whispered back, “Thank you! I’ll try to behave—but no promises!”

  And so kinksters spilled out onto the muggy streets of Boston singly and in twos, threes and larger groupings. Selene found herself with Nick, drifting toward an early dinner somewhere. He had a place in mind but hadn’t actually told her where, and she found she liked the feeling that she’d put herself into his hands in this small way.

  The more she talked with Nick, the more his cool blue gaze and warm smile distracted her, and the more she felt his body language sync up with hers. No, not exactly in sync but one step ahead, anticipating her next movement and influencing it, as if starting to mold her already. She watched his big hands, imagining them alternately caressing and slapping her breasts, her thighs, her ass.

  She looked down at his feet when she imagined her fevered thoughts were too obvious in her eyes, then imagined herself kneeling there, naked, trembling, wet.

  Actually, she didn’t need to imagine the wet and trembling part. Her panties already felt suspiciously damp and her knees were shaky.

  They walked more or less in silence. Between traffic noise, noise from the perennial construction along Atlantic Avenue and the melting heat, talking seemed far too much like work. Even the breeze off Boston Harbor was sticky.

  By the time they crossed a bridge over Fort Point Channel, she was wishing she’d worn flats, even if they wouldn’t have looked right with the outfit. She prayed that the restaurant would be an informal place where she could slip her shoes off under the table.

  Once she saw the restaurant, her feet breathed a sigh of relief.

  The Barking Crab was a tribute to the beachside clam shack. Rough picnic tables covered with butcher paper—they even provided crayons for doodling. A mix of fried and steamed seafood, with a few more sophisticated but still basic selections. And outdoor seating on the harbor, so she could kick off the damn heels and relax. “It’s a tourist trap,” Nick said, “but it’s fun.”

  Soon they were drinking cold beers—he’d recommended the fascinatingly named Smuttynose, from a brewery in New Hampshire—and awaiting plates of fried scallops, fried calamari and steamed mussels. Selene hadn’t eaten a great deal that day and the frosty, hoppy beer was making her feel pleasantly euphoric.

  Or maybe that was Nick.

  She stretched out her bare foot, brushed it against his calf. Hard muscle under soft denim. Nice.

  Yeah, Nick might just have something to do with the euphoria.

  He took the hand that wasn’t holding her beer.

  No, he didn’t exactly take her hand. He covered her hand with his and closed his fingers around her wrist. Then he looked into her eyes.

  A slow, sensual smile opened on his face as he said, “That’s better. Isn’t it?”

  It wasn’t really a question, but he was giving her an out if she wanted it.

  She didn’t. That firm grip on her wrist hinted at so many things she’d dreamed of. “Oh yes,” she breathed. “Better.” She dropped her voice a notch. “And wetter.”

  It may have been purely coincidence that the woman sitting behind her giggled at that second, but Selene was sure she’d overhead.

  Heat flared in Selene’s cheeks and, to her surprise, between her legs. She squirmed in her seat, less from actual embarrassment than to enjoy the pressure the movement put on her swollen lips.

  Under the cover of the first round of food arriving, Nick leaned forward. “So, you enjoy a little bit of public embarrassment? I’ll file that away for later.”

  “You’re so confident that there’ll be a later?”

  “What do you think?” He ran one fingernail down the tender inside of her forearm.

  His nails weren’t sharp, but she still shivered.

  “What about the common-sense test?” she asked. Her voice sounded a little desperate to her own ears, grasping at verbal straws. “Don’t I fail it retroactively if I go home with you tonight?”

  “If you come home with me and let me lock you in a cage, then yes. But to do that, I’d need a cage, and where will I find one in downtown Boston on a Saturday night?” He laughed. “I’m regretting that test. It’s making us both think we have to be sensible, and right now I’d rather be impulsive.”

  “Would it help if I said I wasn’t thinking of much of anything except you?” Had that really come out of her mouth? “Okay, you and food. I’m starving.” She grabbed a ring of fried calamari and popped it into her mouth, hoping the squid would keep her from saying anything too stupid. Calamari had the texture of bubble gum, in her experience, a
nd it was rude to talk with your mouth full.

  Damn it if this place didn’t manage to make calamari tender. Delicious too, with a nice, crunchy coating and a bit of spice.

  Much tastier than what she’d been expecting but not nearly as effective for keeping her safely quiet.

  “Try it with a bit of the banana pepper,” Nick suggested, picking up a calamari ring and a piece of yellow-green pepper. She thought for a second he was demonstrating the proper technique.

  He wasn’t.

  He reached across the table and held the food before her lips. “Try it,” he urged.

  Her mouth opened of its own accord.

  He brushed his finger across the pout of her lower lip, making her shiver.

  She opened her mouth slowly, took a tentative nibble to test the pepper’s heat, then parted her lips wider and engulfed the food and Nick’s fingers.

  Unfortunately, there was only so much room around the morsel for tongue and fingers to work their wiles upon each other. She did her best, though, sucking and nibbling on his fingers while he moved them against her tongue, tantalizing something besides her taste buds, which were already busily dealing with piquant pepper and warm, spiced calamari. She found she was leaning forward to take him, wanting to feel more, liking the sensation that he was filling her mouth.

  She wanted him filling her mouth with his cock, wanted him to move in her mouth as he was now—no, harder, more forcefully, claiming that piece of her as his.

  She arched her throat, tried to convey the fantasy through what she did to his fingers, and discovered that the calamari and pepper were interfering.

  She coughed.

  It didn’t stop the lovely, depraved images running through her head. Frankly, it fit with them, because the blowjob she was imagining was the kind where you might find yourself almost choking on cock but not wanting to stop. The kind where you’d actually revel in the bit of discomfort because your lover was getting off so much on thrusting hard into your throat.

  On the other hand, cock couldn’t actually end up in your windpipe, but a stray piece of food could, and nothing spoiled a flirtation like a Heimlich maneuver and a visit to the ER.