by Joey Hill
That was what she told herself, even as she found herself inexplicably moving closer to him as they passed by people who called out his name, gave him a nod and her penetrating, appraising looks. Her Master touched her often, but she let out a sigh of relief as he found a spot by the pool and sat down in a chair, putting a folded towel on the ground next to it and directing her to a kneeling position.
“Hands laced behind your head, knees apart. Eyes down.”
While it sent a shot of heated arousal through her to have him order her into the posture, her lower belly was quaking about doing it in public. She complied, the air touching her bare pussy, the tips of her breasts.
“Nipple chains, Master Garron?” She saw the very shapely legs of one of those girls stop before him. “Perhaps a bullet vibrator or Ben-Wa balls?”
Garron made an approving noise. In her peripheral vision she saw him handle the balls, testing the weight and vibration. “Two sets of these. Put it on my staff account.”
“Yes sir.”
The woman moved on, her stilettos and seamed stockings a tempting view. Garron bent, sliding his hand between Kaela’s open legs. “You hold these in, my lady. I want you to squeeze down on them like you do my cock. Every ten seconds.”
He inserted them into her pussy, which of course was already wet. He pushed them up until she could hold them with her vaginal walls. Putting his hand on the back of her neck, he pushed her forward off her heels, bid her stay that way. Ripping open the lubricant the woman had given him, he worked it over the extra set of balls while she squeezed down on those other balls. She didn’t have to worry about counting off ten seconds. She was aroused enough to be milking them involuntarily.
“Every ten seconds, Kaela. No cheating.”
She had to really focus to do that, but that was the point. He pushed the other two balls into her rectum. This set had come with an attached string. Keeping it looped around his middle finger, he spread out the others over her buttocks, making slight movements so she felt the balls move inside her, the tug of the string, the press of his fingers on her ass. Then he took the loop end of the tether, threaded it through the string loop to the balls, secured the two together and sat her back on her heels. It made her keep her head up so the tether was a straight line down her spine, no excessive tension on the string that might pull the balls out.
A feeling of fullness, of…tingling. She knew some Ben-Wa balls were designed for more internal movement, causing vibration when the muscles contracted, and these were obviously them. She struggled not to squirm or wiggle, but she couldn’t help the tiny flexes of her hips as the desire to move up and down, like she was riding her Master’s cock, grew too strong to ignore. She bit back another gasp as each clench of her pussy did the same to her anal muscles, making her more aroused. Her response slid over her calf, dripping off her ankle.
“That’s my lady.” He stroked her spine, played with the tether, as her arms quivered in their bent position, fingers laced behind her head. “God, you make me want to fuck you all the time. You’re so beautiful when you’re like this. No coming until I say. You’re getting close, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Yes, Master.”
“One of these days, I’m going to come just from you saying that one word.”
She could do the same. She didn’t even have to stroke herself. She simply thought “Master” and her whole body tightened with desire.
“Any Master?” He demanded
No…I had a fantasy one for a long time. He had no face…he was a shadow.
How about now?
She couldn’t say it out loud, because it would shoot that not-so-delightful shard of poignant impending loss through her heart, but he wasn’t in the mood to be kind. He caught the back of her neck again, squeezed. “Answer me, my lady.”
“You. It’s you.”
“Good. Because if you know that, you know I want you to fail and come without my permission. Those switch marks healed way too quickly. I want to spank you here in front of everyone and make them wish they were me.”
Or me, she thought, thinking of the submissives who might be watching.
He chuckled at that.
He could play her body so well, so quickly, and her desire for his domination, her eagerness to respond to it, only fueled it. But there were more people filtering into the pool area. More voices, more comments directed toward them. Garron was answering, casual conversation, and she tried not to flinch as chairs scraped, were brought closer. One of the people sitting close was a Mistress whose submissive was in the pool. At length he came to the edge, his wet arms propped on the concrete lip, only a few feet from Kaela. Even with her eyes lowered she could see he was watching Kaela, watching his Mistress, eyes flickering back and forth. He was a young Italian male, with expressive eyes and wet black hair sleek on his skull. She’d seen him get into the pool in an extremely brief white suit that would be transparent when he got out, all those olive-skinned ropy muscles a tempting contrast.
She didn’t care about the beauty of the Italian male. She’d seen and known beauty plenty of times. She was more concerned about the people. When another chair scraped and she flinched again, she realized she was nervous and getting more so by the moment.
“May I touch her hair, Master Garron?” The Mistress was speaking. “It’s so lovely.”
She didn’t know what he replied, if he said yes or no. All she knew was she’d turned her head and bared her fangs before she even thought about the wisdom of doing so. Despite the fact she was sure they’d think her red eyes were contacts, and the glimpse of fangs a surgical alteration for role playing, a sub acting as a vampire for Garron, the human woman’s reaction was pure survival instinct. The hand was withdrawn quickly and the chair skipped back two paces with her still in it.
Garron, I can’t do this. I need out of here. Now.
Easy. He touched the choker, slid his finger beneath it before gently removing the balls from both orifices and detaching the string from the tether. Despite her mental distress, his probing to extract the toys from her wet pussy and stimulated rim gave her an erotic shudder. Wrapping the items in a cocktail napkin, he gave them to a staff member to put in a used toy bin for cleaning and brought her to her feet with a firm hand under her elbow. “Excuse me,” he said to the Mistress politely. “This is the first time my sub has been in a public environment, and we’ve reached our limit for today.”
There were polite responses, things she didn’t catch, but he was moving her away from the crowded area, onto one of those secluded paths Eden had in abundance even in the 24/7 area. Thanks to Garron’s height, he was able to beckon over the foliage at one of the roving staff members. He had the man retrieve her robe. Keeping her head down as Garron put it on her, she tried not to be horrified by how she’d lost control. It had been nothing. Nothing but a woman reaching out to touch her.
Sssh, my lady. Stop thinking so much.
Garron tied the robe loosely at her waist, making her feel less exposed. He removed the tether as well. While a part of her protested, another part, the one that was scrambling to feel more in control, didn’t stop him. He put his fingers under her chin.
“Look at me, Kaela.”
His tone was neutral, and when she delved into his mind, seeking disappointment, shame, she found none. There was plenty enough of that in her own head.
He jerked her face up without warning, startling her into another hiss, a showing of teeth. She was never this out of control of her aggression. But before she could pull back, he’d slid a fingertip down her face, stilling her with the gentle gesture.
“It wasn’t a request,” he said mildly.
“I failed here. I can’t do this part.”
“You failed nothing.” His eyes flashed. “Do you want to go back in there? Go back to what we were doing? You won’t lie to me.”
No, she wouldn’t. She’d lied to everyone in the whole world for too long. If she lied to him, she’d be lost. She shook her head. “No
. I don’t want to go back to the pool with them.”
“Why? Stop worrying about my reaction, and your unrealistic expectations, and think.”
She narrowed her gaze at the reproof, but she considered the question, trying to get her feet back beneath her. Though there were still people passing, it was at a reasonable distance, leaving them in a quiet bubble. But when she looked back toward the pool area, where all those Doms and subs were grouped, the Doms socializing, the subs on display in a variety of ways, she recoiled.
Her uncomfortable vulnerability made her feel like she was at a vampire social gathering without any of her normal emotional shields in place.
Was it that simple? When she was with him, she could get lost in her head. For a while, when he’d first inserted the balls, she’d been able to hold onto that. But around others… It was too much like the public persona she’d had to put on for so long. She couldn’t relax, as if the presence of others was a trigger to don her armor.
Plus she was a vampire. She didn’t want to be vulnerable that way in front of…humans.
The shock of that stilled her. Garron was human, but he was different. He’d elicited a unique reaction from her from the beginning. Other humans she still saw as much weaker and even somewhat inferior, if she was being brutally honest. Her submission was a type of solitude, a gift to herself she hadn't had since she'd been a vampire, always on display or on her guard. When she was with just him, she could relax. Or rather, a vital part of her could, enough to surrender to him and be taken to sexual peaks she’d never experienced before him.
Whether it was Eden or Garron himself, it seemed the key that had unlocked this side of her was a key only he could hold. As if he was the only human she thought she could trust. She’d consider the idea absurd, except she’d reacted to him in a way she hadn’t reacted to anyone in over a hundred seventy-five years.
An even less comfortable revelation was realizing that, sometime during those many years, she’d differentiated herself from humans, though she’d been one of them.
She lifted her gaze to him, found him waiting for her to get a handle on it. “Kaela, on one level, it’s no different from any other submissive,” he said. “You all have hard limits, even though it’s difficult to accept that at first, because it’s all about wanting to lose yourself in the Dom’s desires. But you’re different as well. You’ve had to keep your game face on, 24/7, for so long. Hell, even when you were a spy, you had to pretend to be something else.”
She lifted a shoulder in uncertain agreement.
“Do you want me to help you approach this in a different way?”
She paused to consider that from all angles, but at last nodded. His eyes warmed upon her.
“Let’s just walk around together, let you check all this out.” He tugged her hair, won a half smile from her. “You’re still here as my sub, I’m still your Master, but you’re just watching, not participating. Nobody touches you but me. Got it?”
The biting coil of tension eased. His expression filled with amusement, not unkind. “You high-powered subs are all the same. You think if you can’t leap tall buildings that you’ve somehow let your Master down. The truth is, when you let me know what you can’t handle, you’ve given me exactly what I want. Your trust. Come on.”
He pulled her in to kiss the top of her head. He kept holding her, rubbing his hands up and down her back, over her hips, back up to her shoulders and throat, tipping up her chin to press a lingering kiss on her lips. Warmth spread through her like the memory of sunshine, and when her lashes fluttered up at last, she saw him looking at her with a peculiar intensity.
“What was that for?” she said, low.
He touched her chin. “I don’t like you being unhappy, my lady. Making you feel better makes me feel better.”
“More manly?”
“Completely,” he said, the crinkling around his eyes pulling at his face scar. “My testosterone just spiked, big time. Follow me.”
She had a request first. He’d said to trust him, after all. “Would you…put the tether back on? I like the feeling that you’re leading me.”
He complied. Once the thin chain was back in place, the slack wrapped around his hand, he leaned in, kissed her cheekbone, spoke against it. “It’s not a feeling, Kaela. I am leading you.”
§
She had the opportunity to see the water tank he’d described, as well as a variety of other wonderful titillating things. She watched some more extensive violet wand displays with fascination, as well as the elaborate work suspension artists did, shaping their submissive’s bodies with colorful ropes.
It helped that she saw other pairings of Doms and subs doing what they were doing, taking in the sights rather than actively playing, letting the visuals feed their own desires for private play later.
Everyone is different, Kaela. There are Doms and subs who never take it past their own bedroom and are very happy with one another that way. Others that live in full 24/7 scenarios, complete with elaborate authority structures within their homes. “Which is probably somewhat like the typical vampire-servant scenario.”
He said that aloud, and she nodded again, her gaze fastened on a pair of men who had buried another man up to his neck in the garden and formed a frame of petals around him as if he were a plant. They were presently masturbating over his head, splashing their come on his face as if watering the “plant”. It was whimsical, somewhat bizarre and ridiculous. Yet it managed to be arousing because of how involved they all were in it. She suspected the “flower’ had some type of vibrator inserted in his ass or strapped to the head of his cock, because as they began to come, it was obvious from the contortions of his face that the same thing was happening to him. She wondered how reaching orgasm while fully immobilized, unable to move in any way, felt.
I’ll see if I can’t figure out something that can hold my vampire completely still to test that. She responded quite passionately to being bound by rope yesterday. Garron shot her a wicked look. “People liked the dungeon rooms of Club Sin so much, Vardalos had an underground area created out here as well. Would you like to see it?”
At her agreement, he took her into one of the gardens, to a stone structure that looked like a monolith at Stonehenge. Beneath the arch was a pair of ornate trapdoors, which were pulled back with golden ropes by two hooded, muscular males wearing the same kind of leather pants as the submissive at the entrance to the outdoor BDSM area. As the doors opened, she saw a winding stairwell descending into the ground. A whiff of exotic spices hit her nose. Garron folded her hand into his elbow and started downward, the doors closing over them once his head cleared the frame.
“Have they ever lowered it too soon and hit you?”
He squeezed her fingers. “Once. Clay did it on purpose. It was during one of our few maintenance days, when this area was closed to guests. I was going down for an equipment check. He wanted to be a smartass.”
She chuckled at the image in his head of the young man who’d been on the left side, only in Garron’s mind she saw him without the mask, all spiked blond hair and merry grey-blue eyes. He’d done his best to evade Garron’s pursuit but had eventually been caught. Kaela got a vision of a head lock followed by a quite uneven wrestling match between Clay and Garron. All of it was tempered by her Master’s deep affection for the slim young man.
“You’re all family here.”
“Some of us. It’s like any working environment. You bond with some people faster than others. They’re a part of my life now, and I’ll carry good memories of them when the time comes for me to leave. I’ll hope to have the chance to come back and visit them now and again.”
You bond with some people faster than others… When he'd told her about being in the wreckage of the explosion, picking up the baby's arm, she remembered feeling a wave of relief, and one, all-encompassing point. He understands. He knows. He’d faced how horrible, fragile and wondrous the world could be. He knew how the threads of all those reactions
often twisted together into a rope that could almost strangle the soul when overwhelmed by it all. He knew about that. She’d seen it in his mind, his eyes, his voice.
He knew everything she'd felt in the past hundred and seventy-five years, at an unconscious level that would never need to be explained. They'd simply feel it together.
He squeezed her fingers again, a meaningful gesture that she chose not to answer. She needed to stop following those thoughts in her mind to places she couldn’t go. So instead she focused on the sounds drifting up the stairwell. Like Club Sin, she heard echoing moans and sharp cracks, the scent of blood, sweat, tears, heat, pain and pleasure.
Once they reached the bottom of the curving stairwell, she saw open areas marked off by dark stone pillars, the equipment positioned there indicating it was public play space. Garron directed her to a tunnel with an engraved sign over the mouth that read: “Viewing Chambers”. The letters were done in a Goth-looking font with a tangle of purple and orange fairy lights around them, as well as coiled whips, an oversized Wartenburg wheel, manacles and chains. Once stepping into that tunnel, another branched off with a similar sign, only this one said “Private Rooms” and there were two staff members in front of a heavy purple and black velvet curtain screening the opening.
Garron continued along the Viewing Chamber corridor. She could see a scattering of people ahead of them, grouped in front of different spaces that looked like glass windows or cell doors, depending on the spot.
“The viewing chambers give you the chance to view sessions where the Dom is okay with it being somewhat public, but wants clear boundaries. You can choose a chamber with bars like a cell, or soundproof glass. Or normal glass, where you get some muffled noise from the rest of the club.”
At the first window, she saw fire play in process. A naked man was lying on a massage table much like the one Garron had. Two women dressed in a scant amount of leather straps and chain ran lit torches over his skin in swift, smooth movements that appeared to heat the skin but didn’t burn, if his ecstatic expression was any indication. The Dom, a tall, masked male in leather pants, thigh high boots and an open black shirt that revealed a smoothly muscled and tattooed chest stood to the side, watching. A clipped tag at his belt indicated he was a staff Master.
