by Amy Valenti
Abruptly, Marc grabbed the front of my bra, pulled it taut away from my body, then cut through the flimsy material in just three swipes of the knife—one down the front, between the two cups, then a quick through each shoulder strap.
He tugged away the bra, baring me to the gazes of anyone who cared to look, and I burned with humiliation and arousal alike. Marc threw the scraps of leather aside, and I screwed my eyes tightly shut beneath the blindfold.
The knife pressed against one of my nipples, and I opened my eyes again reflexively, gasping as I stared at the darkness. The flat of the blade was resting over my areola, and it felt so smoothly seductive that I almost rubbed against it. Holding as still as I could, hoping I wasn’t trembling as much as I thought I was, I whispered, “Sir...”
“Does this turn you on, you dirty girl? Having the entire club watch you while I hold you at knifepoint?” His voice was husky with need, and it turned my pussy to liquid.
“It does, Sir.”
“I can tell.” He transferred the knife to my opposite nipple, pressing down gently. “You’d let me put this anywhere, wouldn’t you, Eleanor?”
My imagination ran wild, and most of the images it threw at me were disturbing, to say the least. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly feeling drier than dust bunnies. “I don’t know, Sir. I...I trust you.”
Marc took away the knife, trailed it down between my breasts with the lightest of pressures. I imagined it drawing blood, though I was reasonably sure that was just my imagination.
“Are you going to let me take my riding crop to your delicious ass until it’s red, then fuck you until you scream, right here in the middle of the club?”
I swallowed hard as he teased the knife-point into my navel. “Anything you want, Sir.”
Mark grabbed me by the hair and kissed me, and then... I gasped into his mouth at the cool, sharp pressure of the knife against my throat.
“Don’t move, Eleanor...” he whispered against my lips, then slowly released my hair as he kissed me again.
I held absolutely still even as I returned his kiss, my pulse beating hard between my legs.
He took away the knife just before he pulled out of the kiss, and I fell to my knees, conscious of his steadying hand on my shoulder.
“Colour?” he asked softly, crouching beside me.
Trembling, I searched myself. I could still feel the blade’s caress, and what really scared me was that if he’d asked me to lean against the sharp edge, I might even have done it. For him. “Y-yellow.”
“The knife?” I couldn’t see him, but imagined him studying my face, concerned, searching out the truth.
I nodded.
“No more of that tonight. I promise.” He kissed me gently, with affection, not caring who saw it. It was that that made me love him the most. The knots of fear in my stomach eased completely under his masterful touch.
“Thank you, Sir.”
He squeezed my shoulder, then stood up. “Wait here for a second.”
With bound arms, a blindfold and nothing covering my breasts, I wasn’t able to do anything else. Still, I took a deep breath and calmed my mind, letting myself feel the faint pain of the slight scratch the knife’s path had left, the cool air on my nipples, the blood heating my cheeks. Half-naked in front of so many people...
When Marc returned, he steadied me as I obeyed his command to get up again. It was no mean feat, since my arms were thoroughly incapacitated and I couldn’t see, but I managed.
His strength was mostly what saw me lying facedown on the long, hip-high bench in the middle of the booth. I could never have got there on my own. My arms behind my back and my body horizontal, I waited for Marc to do what he willed with me.
After he’d unzipped and pulled off my skirt, leaving me in just stockings, heels and a thong, he started by spanking my ass with his bare hand—familiar taps that started soft and grew in intensity until I flinched and cried out with every stroke. He eased off from there, or maybe I just got used to the pain, my endorphins flowing freely now. Once Marc decreed I was warmed up, he turned the vibrator back on again.
“Take this for me, Eleanor.”
He eased the bullet vibe past my thong into my throbbing, soaked pussy, and I cried out as the vibrations teased me—not enough to get me off, but enough to drive me crazy. I wriggled, pressing against the bench, and Marc delivered another sharp slap to my ass. “Stay still.”
I did as I was told, though the vibrator was driving me to distraction, held in place by my panties. I whimpered when Marc swished the riding crop through the air.
He began to use it on me—swift taps all over my ass and the backs of my upper thighs, some harder than others, but always increasing in intensity. The combination of the shuddering vibe in my pussy and the pain being inflicted on my poor behind was almost too intense. I began to whimper in earnest, clenching my fists to dispel the urge to wriggle and writhe my way to orgasm.
The crop cracked down over and over, and by the time Marc set it aside to smooth his hands over my buttocks, I was almost sobbing with pain and need. My ass was on fire, my muscles taut with the yearning to get off. Subspace had stayed just out of reach, but even without it, the intensity of the scene was almost stratospheric.
“Steady, beautiful…” After a second, the ribbon holding my arms in place slackened, and Marc helped me to bring them back to their normal position before rolling me over onto my back.
“Feel this?” he asked, leaning over and pressing his hard-on against my hip. “This is how much I want you, Eleanor.”
“May I touch, Sir?” Once upon a time, I would have reached for his cock without a second thought. I was a better submissive these days.
“No, you may not.”
Disappointed, I remained still, but Marc had more to come. Spreading my thighs, he pressed in between them and told me, “I want to fuck you in front of every single person watching.”
I’d wrapped my legs around his waist before I could stop myself. Okay, so I’m a better sub most of the time. He ground his erection against my clit, and I moaned as he cupped my breasts, teased the nipples between his fingers and thumbs. The combined sensations, plus the vibrator still working its magic inside me, took me instantly up to the very edge of orgasm.
“Sir! Can I—?”
He rocked against me, squeezing and stroking my nipples as I gasped a curse and clenched my fists, attempting to stave off my climax. I couldn’t embarrass him in public by coming now, I just couldn’t…
“Now, Eleanor. Give me everything.”
I clawed at his shirt, finding it impossibly hot that he was still clothed and I was practically naked below him—a submissive bent to her Master’s will. The image was so provocative that it tipped me right over the edge, and I bucked against his cock as my world became nothing but wave after wave of surging bliss.
“Fuck, you test my self-control sometimes, Nell,” he murmured against my neck as I sagged back against the bench, breathless and trembling. Already, the vibrator was teasing me back to the stage where I craved more sweet friction, and I couldn’t help but tilt my hips up against him again.
“Love you too, Sir…” Wait—there was something wrong with my saying that, wasn’t there? I couldn’t quite put my finger on it—I was too focused on him, on the way our bodies should be interlocking but weren’t. “Please take me now?”
He hesitated for a moment, and I wondered what I’d see in his face if the blindfold wasn’t obliterating my vision. I reached up to run my fingers over his face, tracing his slightly stubbled jawline, his provocative lips. He kissed my fingertips, then grabbed my wrist and pinned it to the bench above my head. Capturing my other wrist, he pressed it down alongside the first. “Stay.”
I kept still as he moved back enough to pull aside my thong. Sighing as the cool air hit my warm, wet skin, I spread my legs so that he could ease the vibrator from inside me. He grazed his knuckle over my swollen clit in the process, and I bit back a gasp.
“One second, beautiful.” Marc stepped away, leaving me with a raging libido and an empty pussy. I bit back the powerful urge to call him a sadist, unwilling to risk a public punishment.
When Marc returned, his hands warm on my inner thighs as he spread my knees farther apart, it was an effort for me not to reach for him. I kept my hands where he’d put them while he teased my oversensitive clit with his cock. I was momentarily confused when I felt he’d put on a condom—we didn’t normally use them. Then I remembered the club had a safe sex policy and relaxed, concentrating on the feel of his body against mine.
“Are you ready for me to show everyone here who you belong to, my sub?”
“Yes, Sir.” I quivered a little, self-conscious and yet not quite caring about the voyeurs just a few feet away. I’d be embarrassed later. For now, all I wanted to do was feel…fragment…fuck.
He drove into me in one slick, mind-blowing thrust, holding my wrists above my head when I reflexively tried to wind my arms around him.
“All mine, Eleanor. Your gorgeous curves. Your amazing smile. Your hot, tight pussy and your warm personality and your mischievous sense of humour. All…fucking…mine.”
His hard, thick cock drove home his point with every thrust, and I arched to meet him, craving his touch. “Yours, Master. I promise.”
Growling wordless approval, he took me faster, more shallowly, hitting my G-spot until I lost sense of everything except the almost unbearable want within me. “Oh, god, I need…”
Whatever it was I needed—I wasn’t quite sure myself—he gave it all and more. I teetered on the brink of ecstasy for tense, desperate fractions of a second before finally taking the plunge into a torrent of surging pleasure.
The next thing I knew, as I floated on aftershocks that shook me like mini orgasms in their own right, was that Marc was nuzzling my shoulder. I didn’t remember him getting off—I’d been a little distracted—but he was relaxed enough that I knew he had. He’d released his grip on my wrists, so I brought my arms down to hug him tightly.
We stayed that way for a moment, collecting ourselves, before Marc slowly withdrew from me, then repositioned my underwear. A moment passed, then I felt the softness of a blanket being laid over me. “Stay there for a little while. Take off the blindfold when you feel ready. I’ll be nearby.”
As the happy mix of chemicals in my bloodstream began to filter away through my system, I quickly became glad of the blanket, both for modesty’s sake and to keep me warm and sane. I pushed up the blindfold carefully, keeping my eyes shut while I adjusted to the post-scene situation.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to open my eyes, but I had to do it sometime. I cracked one open, then blinked a few times as I stared up at the ceiling high above me. It took a couple of moments to become used to being able to see again, but then I tipped my head up to get a better look around me.
When I turned my head towards the edge of the booth, braced to see a curious crowd, I only saw a few people standing and chatting—and none of them were really paying attention to me. It seemed hard to believe, since I’d just been thoroughly dominated and fucked in front of an entire club, but maybe the interesting part was over now, and people had moved on.
Marc was zipping up his toy bag when I looked over at him. He seemed slightly rumpled, but I was willing to bet I looked a complete state. My hair was probably all over the place, and my makeup must be smudged to hell...
“Sit up slowly if you’re ready.” Marc crossed to my side and helped me to a sitting position, his eyes on my face. The scrutiny was almost too intense, and as I wrapped the blanket around me more securely, I bowed my head, avoiding his eyes.
“How are you feeling?” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and hugged me to him.
“A little vulnerable,” I admitted.
“To be expected.” He helped me up onto my feet. “Wait just a minute and I’ll get you somewhere we can relax for a while.”
He reached for some antibacterial wipes.
“I’ll do that, Marc.” A quiet female voice came from the entrance to the cubicle. A petite, full-figured redhead was leaning against the partition, smiling a little. “Seems like you need to take care of your girl, and we’re next in line to use the room, so...”
Marc nodded, beckoning for the girl to enter. “Appreciated, Angie. I’d turn you down, but with this being Nell’s first time...”
“Not a problem. It’s why I offered.” The woman clicked her fingers, and a long-haired man wearing—was that a loincloth?—and nothing else got up from a kneeling position nearby. He followed her into the booth and knelt where she pointed.
“Talk later?” Marc asked Angie.
“Definitely. You’ve been missed.” She smiled at him, then at me, before tossing the antibacterial wipes down into her sub’s line of sight. “Get to work, boy.”
Marc put an arm around me and led me from the booth before the guy could move. I wondered what kind of scene I’d be missing—Jane dominating Tarzan, maybe?—but then I decided I didn’t care. As long as Marc was holding me, nothing else mattered.
He led me gently back into the lounge, where we found a vacant sofa and settled down. I leaned against Marc, relishing the feel of his arms around me.
“Here you go, guys.” Joy put a bottle of water into my hand. I almost choked on the first sip, suddenly realising how thirsty I was, but managed to steady myself before I made a fool of myself.
“Thanks, Joy.” Marc took his own bottle from her, and I watched her move away from us, to sit with Dylan a few couches away.
I couldn’t deny I was glad for the pseudo-privacy at that moment. I wasn’t feeling very sociable.
“Doing a little better?” Marc asked.
I nodded, wriggling experimentally on my tender ass and smiling. “I think I’ll be feeling it in the morning.”
“How was the scene for you?” He wrapped the blanket more securely around me.
I tried to think. “I can’t believe I did all that.”
“We both did it.”
“Yeah, but I did it with a lot less clothing,” I pointed out, and he chuckled.
“Good point.”
“How many people were...?” I trailed off, not sure I actually wanted to know.
“More than a few. It was kind of unavoidable...but at least now a good portion of the club knows exactly who you belong to.”
He laughed as I buried my head in my hands, humiliated. What had possessed me? Then again, I knew I’d loved it, knew I’d begged, knew Marc would never have done any of it without my consent. It had all been my own call. I couldn’t run from that.
“Hello, my name is Eleanor, and I’m an exhibitionist and a voyeur. Who knew?” I murmured, mostly to myself.
“I had an idea you might be from the way you reacted when I talked about it in the past.” Marc smiled. “I don’t think it’s all that rare, especially amongst kinky people.”
“And that knife...” I shivered to think of it—cool, sharp, potentially deadly.
He tugged on my collar. “You were completely safe, Nell. I promise.”
“I know.” I gazed up at him, trusting him entirely. “I’ve always known it, somehow.”
He kissed me softly. “Good to know.”
“Do you think anyone else will think I’m a total slut? God, how am I gonna face Anna and Marti?”
Marc shrugged. “Like you always do. They’re the same people they were before you saw them in action. The same way you’re the same person you were before Helen, Dmitri, Joy and Dylan saw us.”
I tried to hide beneath the blanket. “They were all watching? Fuck, I am so embarrassed...”
“It gets easier to reconcile in your mind. Just give it time.”
“Yes, Sir.”
I hoped he was right, because right now? I couldn’t believe I was the same person as the brazen hussy who’d had sex in front of half a club...
Chapter Three
The rest of the weekend went quietly. We were all recoverin
g from our night out—Helen and Dmitri hadn’t played in public, but the rest of us were all either suffering through bruises or watching for signs of delayed sub-drop. Anna had burst into tears mid-sentence at one point, but she had admitted on the way home from the club that it was an emotional experience to be punished in public, and she expected to drop at some point.
On Sunday night, I looked expectantly up at Marc as the credits of the horror movie we’d been watching rolled. “So...”
He cocked his head quizzically. “So?”
“Can I ask you about Callie?”
I felt his body grow tense against mine, as though he were a dog who’d just been ordered to guard. “What do you want to know?”
I turned my body sideways on the couch, sitting cross-legged so I could face him. “I’m not trying to ambush you, Marc, I promise. I just...have questions. Not questions like ‘was she prettier than me?’ or ‘did you love her?’ Just situational questions that confuse me.”
He nodded, although he didn’t relax. “I guess you have a right to know.”
I chewed a fingernail, taking a moment to get my thoughts in order. I was curious, not jealous, and I didn’t want to make him more uncomfortable than he looked right now. Finally, I decided how to begin. “Was she your sub?”
He nodded. “For over a year.”
“Is it okay if I ask why you broke up?”
He avoided my gaze, staring at the movie credits still rolling.
“Marc... Sir...”
He looked at me then, his eyes pained.
I covered his hand with mine and squeezed it. “I’m sorry. She left you, huh?”
Marc’s jaw tightened, and for a moment he seemed conflicted. Then he said, “No. I ended it with her.”
Surprised, I re-evaluated my perception of the situation. “So why do you look so sad?”
Slowly, he said, “It was the best thing for both of us. But it didn’t feel that way at the time. I’d rather not go into specifics, Nell. Really.”
I didn’t want to push, although my curiosity itched like crazy. “Can you tell me why you’ve been away from the scene for over two years? It seemed like most people were really happy to see you last night. Like you cut yourself off from them and they never expected to see you again.”
