by L. DuBois
Pinching the bottom edges, she squeezed them towards each other and undid the first few hook and eye closures. She planned to work from the bottom up, but Daniel stopped her.
“No. Start at the top. I want to see your breasts trying to escape the corset.”
Autumn glanced at him from under her lashes, and slid her hands up her torso. She cupped her breasts, fingertips digging into the exposed and plumped mounds above the top edge of her corset.
Daniel’s lips twitched into a smile, but he shook his head in a wordless rebuke.
She shifted her weight, her damp labia sliding against one another. Shoving her thumbs down under the top edge of her corset, she pinched the fabric and squeezed the panels together, momentarily compressing her breasts even more. For one delicious second she could barely breathe it was so tight, and rather than frightening, she found that moment exhilarating.
Then the first few hooks were open, and when she inhaled, her breasts forced the top edges of the corset apart, exposing the inner curve of her pressed-together breasts.
Impatient now, she kept going, unfastening the corset with more haste than grace. When the final hook was undone she paused, holding the corset closed as she looked at Daniel through her lashes.
He sat forward, focused and intense, then pointed at the ground with a sharp, commanding gesture.
She dropped the corset.
Her areolae tightened as the cold air hit them, and as she took a breath, the slim silver bars with their rhinestone ball ends caught the light. She had thinner than normal jewelry, because she didn’t want the piercings to show through her bra, but also didn’t want to have to wear a thickly padded bra.
And she liked the aesthetic of dainty jewelry. In her mind, nipples deserved to be adorned with delicate beauty. Not that she didn’t occasionally use thicker bars, especially if she was wearing nipple shields that required a heavier, longer bar in order to stay in place.
She took another deep breath, watching him watch her breasts rise and fall.
“Get rid of the skirt,” he commanded.
She wiggled the roll of fabric down and off. Though it hadn’t been covering more than a one-inch band of skin around her waist, removing it made her feel more exposed. She was naked except for the black thong, which was soaked from her own arousal, and felt like it was stuck to her labia.
“You have lovely breasts.” Daniel sat back. “Hands on your head. I want to see them lifted.”
Lacing her fingers together and resting them on the crown of her head, her breasts now raised and exposed, made her pussy clench with need. It was a little shocking how turned on she was given that he’d barely touched her. Usually it took more physical touch to get her to this point.
Maybe you’re more turned on because this isn’t just a scene. You’re subbing for a man you like and are attracted to.
The thought, the words, made her flinch, and stole some of her pleasure. Embarrassment, and not the fun, sexy kind, took big bites out of her arousal.
“Cold?” Daniel had, apparently, noticed her shiver.
“A little,” she murmured, focused on an internal battle not to fall out of the moment.
“A little what?” he asked.
She missed the warning note in his voice.
“A little cold,” she replied, distracted by panicky thoughts about her attraction to him.
Daniel surged to his feet, his eyes hard and glittering even in the low light of the courtyard. Her own eyes widened as she realized what she’d just done.
He’d been prompting her to add a “Sir” onto that sentence. Not asking her to clarify what her “a little” comment had been in reference to.
Daniel gripped the back of her neck. The tip of his thumb and one finger pressed into the soft spots just under each ear.
He jerked her forward, and in a bid to cool his irritation by being extra submissive she kept her hands on her head, even as he used his hold on her neck to push her down so she was kneeling on the seat of the wide chair.
He forced her upper body forward, and when she tried to angle it so her upper chest and shoulders rested on the back of the chair, he jerked her further forward, so it was her waist that rested on the top of the chair, her upper body extended over the back, breasts dangling. Unable to keep her balance with her arms up, she unlaced her fingers and grabbed hold of the chair, elbows tucked in at her sides.
He released her neck. She took a deep breath, fighting the mingled alarm and excitement that coursed through her.
“I’m sorry, Master Daniel. I was thinking about something else.”
He didn’t reply.
She craned her neck to look at him where he stood beside the chaise, his expression mildly disappointed.
For most subs, that was probably a look men gave them only when they were in a scene. But for her that mild, almost disinterested expression triggered some bad memories. Memories that had nothing to do with this moment, and everything to do with her submission.
Shit, shit, shit.
She closed her eyes and tried to focus on what was going on around her. Let the ambient smells and sounds of the club remind her of where she was and what she could get from being here. It would have been better if she’d been able to see the scene on the stage, but right now all she could see was a massive pot filled with succulents, one of the posts around which the desert roses climbed, and the hard-packed sandy ground.
The sound of a belt being whipped off shocked her back into that needy, submissive place. She twisted in time to see Daniel folding his belt in half, the buckle and tail ends held in his fist, the needy fear of a punishment chasing away her ghosts.
“I’m sorry, Master Daniel.”
“I’m sure you are. And I know you weren’t looking for a punishment, were you? You weren’t trying to be a brat.” He stroked her ass with the belt, gentle caresses with smooth, slick leather.
“I wasn’t, no. I don’t play brat.”
“I didn’t think so. Which almost makes it worse.”
She shifted a little, putting her hands under her stomach so she was resting on them rather than directly on the narrow wooden back. “You prefer brats?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. You weren’t paying attention. You weren’t in the moment, and you should have been.”
Autumn put the tip of her tongue between her teeth to stop herself from saying something that would not help the situation.
He came closer and crouched so he could see her face, and she could see his. His lips twitched. “Does it hurt? Holding back whatever sassy comment you clearly want to make.”
“I said I wasn’t a brat.”
“Brat and sass are two distinctly different things.”
That surprised her. “You think so?”
“I do. And anyone who doesn’t is an idiot. Sassy comments can be done in a bratty way, but pure sassy is rarely also bratty.”
“You’re a connoisseur.”
“I am. And if you’d said ‘a little cold’ in a different tone I might have thought it was brat. But you were distracted. Not in the moment.” He stroked the side of one hanging breast with the back of his finger. “That is as much my fault as yours.”
She never really considered the side of her breast a major erogenous zone. Nipple, of course. Underside? Yes.
Daniel had just proven she was too narrow minded. She felt that gentle stroke, his first time touching her bare breasts, in every part of her body.
“I’m paying attention now.” She’d meant the comment to be dry. It came out breathless.
Daniel laughed as he stood, and it wasn’t some menacing dark chuckle; it was a real, happy laugh that made her own lips twitch.
And made her heart race a little because she really liked this guy. If this had been a date—
The first slap of his belt against her ass shocked more than it hurt. She jumped, glad she had her hands under her to protect her middle.
“I lost you again there for a moment, didn’t I?�
�
Slap.
This one was firmer, but still just a quick sting. His belt wasn’t an impact toy, and so he wasn’t really using it as one.
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered. She wasn’t normally a whisperer, but her throat was tight and it was the best she could manage.
“Something is going on in your head that’s distracting you.”
Air whistled this time before the belt landed again.
Autumn whimpered and her pussy pulsed. She enjoyed impact play for impact play’s sake. She was rarely “punished” unless that was part of the negotiated scene, and usually she agreed to it because it was part of the Dom’s needs. She’d take a plug up her ass then go over a man’s lap for a spanking with a smile on her face, because she enjoyed the physical sensations, not because she got off on the taboo idea of being spanked.
What Daniel was doing right now was…different. He was punishing her for not paying attention. Not being present.
The first time when she failed to add a ‘Sir’ or ‘Master Daniel’ onto the end of the sentence, even after he’d warned her, it had been obvious she wasn’t really paying attention.
This second time, when she’d been distracted thinking about dating him, he’d noticed even though it hadn’t been as obvious. That meant he’d accurately read her body language and facial expression, which indicated that while she might not have been paying attention, he had been watching her closely.
“When was the last time you were whipped with a belt?”
“It’s been…a while. Usually we just—” She sucked in breath as he landed another strike. “—uh, use impact play implements.”
“No improvised punishments.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. “Three more.”
Slap.
Slap.
Slap.
The final blows fell in quick sensation, landing with a popping, stinging intensity. They weren’t really that hard, which was appropriate since she wasn’t warmed up, but they weren’t just for show either. She could feel the spots where the belt had landed, though she doubted the pink marks would last more than a few minutes.
He’d spanked her, hurt her in a small but important way.
She welcomed the pain. Hopefully it would cement in her mind that Daniel was a Dom, and her play partner. That their chemistry didn’t matter. That it was already too late, no matter how much she might like him, because he knew she was a submissive.
His belt buckle clinked as he tossed it down, as casually careless with it as he had been with his coat.
Then he was gripping her shoulders, helping her straighten up. At some point during the spanking her eyes had drifted closed. By the time she blinked them open, he was gone, circling around behind her.
“May I touch your ass?”
“You’re asking permission? You didn’t ask before you whipped off that belt.” She was kneeling on the chair, back straight, hands braced on the back.
“No, but I knew from your checklist that impact play is important to you, and punishment is, well, it’s standard practice. But impact play doesn’t automatically mean intimate touching. Our checklist items mean I will be touching your breasts, but there is no need for me to touch your ass with my hands if you would rather I not.”
“Anyone not in the lifestyle would find that statement, and your question in general, ludicrous.”
“Poor vanilla bastards,” Daniel said fervently.
She giggled—ugh, giggled—then cleared her throat and said, “Yes, you may touch me, Sir.”
His fingers were cool as they danced over her skin. Autumn sucked in a breath and her glutes clenched. He palmed her ass, one cheek in each hand, then leaned in close. Close enough she could feel his body heat on her back, and feel his breath moving her hair when he exhaled.
He gave her ass a little squeeze and she pushed her hips back, pressing her butt into his hands.
He squeezed again, fingers digging into her in a way that was anything but casual. She braced the heels of her hands on the back of the chair and pushed back far enough that her ass touched his body. She ground against him. His cock was hard; she could feel it through his pants, and that just turned her on more.
She wanted him to undo his pants, slide his cock deep into her pussy, and take her. She wanted his cock in her while he bit her neck and pinched her nipples. Wanted him to fuck her so hard and so good that all she could do was hold on to the chair, brace herself against the onslaught of pleasure his fucking would bring.
Daniel’s hands slid to her ribs and he jerked her up, her bare back against his clothed chest. He ground his cock against her ass, chin rubbing against her hair as he leaned in to whisper in her ear.
“What a good little slutty submissive you are. I bet you’ll do anything if I promise to fuck you. If you’re obedient I might be willing to let you have my cock tomorrow, but we’ll have to negotiate it. So keep being a submissive slut, and—”
The words were like a bucket of ice water to the face. Shocking. Cold.
Painful.
Every muscle in her body went taut and tears tightened her throat.
Slut.
Submissive slut.
Good girl.
Words she hated. Words that made her feel stupid. Words that made her hate herself. And hate the person who said them.
The words were bad enough, but the worst of it was his tone.
This wasn’t the way he’d talked to her at dinner. Wasn’t even the calm, commanding tone he’d used to give her orders. This was the sneering, derisive tone of a man who didn’t respect the woman he was with. Who thought…no, knew, she was less than because of what she wanted. Because she both enjoyed sex and was a submissive
It hurt. A barely healed scar was ripped open, the pain familiar but no less heartbreaking for the familiarity.
Coming from Daniel, the man she’d flirted with and who knew the difference between sassy and bratty…it hurt worse.
Autumn pushed back, using her bodyweight to throw him off balance so he took a few steps back. She was already moving, whirling off the bench and stooping to grab something to cover herself.
Her corset lay in a heap, and there was no point in trying to get it back on, so she snatched up his jacket, holding it to her chest as she retreated, backing away from their little spot and into an open area of the courtyard. There were now plenty of other people in the courtyard, but she ignored them.
She was shaking, teeth nearly chattering, so she clenched her jaw and finally looked up. Looked at him.
Daniel stood in the shadows, his eyes wide, his hands loose at his sides. He opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything. He looked utterly confused. Or maybe that was her wishful thinking, and that look was really disappointment, disgust, not confusion.
“Autumn…”
The sound of her name on his lips, the way he was looking at her… It was too much.
Autumn turned and walked away.
Chapter 6
What the fuck had just happened?
Scenes went sideways. It happened to even the most experienced players.
Daniel wouldn’t consider himself an expert, but he was far from inexperienced. Usually, if a scene had to be stopped, or started deviating from plan, he could sense the issue coming, and knew how to get himself and his partner reengaged and back on track. That focus was a major part of his need for control. A need he only released when he was Master Daniel.
This time he had no idea what had gone wrong.
He stood, stupefied, as Autumn hurried away. She wasn’t running, but it was a quick walk.
Her naked back—naked save for the thin strings of her thong underwear and the already fading pink marks from the belt—disappeared into the shadowed hallway that surrounded the courtyard.
More than a few heads had turned to watch her, then track back to him. Some Doms and Masters who’d noticed her retreat hit him with hard stares.
That shocked him into moving, because if he didn’t do something, one of the
men giving him the gimlet eye might take it upon themselves to go check on Autumn.
But Autumn was his.
He snatched up his belt and started feeding it through the loops as he hurried after her. She had given him control so he could satisfy her need, both their needs. This situation had just spiraled out of his control and grim determination, a need to make it right, to understand and fix it, made every muscle in his body tight.
He had long legs, and they ate up the ground, closing the distance she’d put between them.
He caught up to her on the path between the Sub Rosa court and the next building over. The covered flagstone path was lit only by the starlight that peeked through the slatted cover overhead, and ambient light filtering out of the Sub Rosa court.
He didn’t touch her, that was inappropriate bordering on unacceptable, but he slid past her, took a few steps, turned, and stopped, blocking her path. She pulled up short, but didn’t look at him.
“We need to talk,” he said softly, his tone gentle when inside he felt hard and ragged. “It would be remiss of me to let you leave right now. At the very least you need aftercare.”
“We didn’t scene.”
“We did,” he countered.
She hugged herself, wrinkling the fabric of his jacket with her tight, desperate hold. “I…”
That was all she said. Daniel gave her another minute, but when she didn’t speak, his Dom side took over.
“We’ll talk in private.” He stepped sideways off the path, between two of the columns that supported the pergola-like path cover. The rocky soil, loose rather than hard packed as it was in the courtyards, crunched under his shoes. He looked down at her bare feet, then back at her.
“If you wait a moment I’ll go get your shoes.”
It was a risk. The moment he was gone she’d probably disappear into the Sub Rosa court.
To his surprise she joined him, walking out of the striped shadows and into the silvery light cast down by moon and stars.
