Chiz almost jerked when Elmo spoke, he’d been so lost in his own head. He watched as she took a step back, unbelted the coat, and shucked it off her shoulders. At the sight of what she revealed, his internal fireworks set off a gala display.
The smooth, shiny corset gave her a tiny waist. He wanted to wrap his hands around her middle and see if his fingers met, but better than that, it pushed her tits up and out. He made an audible sound at the sight of the creamy swell of her breasts threatening to burst out of their confines. He hadn’t even taken in the full outfit before she was reaching down and pulling the little flimsy shorts she was wearing down and over the boots, which reached halfway up her thighs and fulfilled everything he’d hoped they would be from his first glimpse of them; from the spindle heels all up the gleaming inky blackness of the patent leather or PVC. Whatever they were made out of, Chiz didn’t give a fuck. They were glorious.
Elmo was a vision, standing in nothing but the skintight boots and the corset, the outfit perfectly framing her naked, hairless pussy. She reached up and flicked her black curls over her shoulder, revealing the faintly bruised imprint of his teeth that he’d left the previous night. That made up his mind. He was going to throw all in tonight and let the chips fall where they may.
“Alright, doll, I’m all yours.”
Her demeanor changed subtly, she stiffened, drawing herself up taller, and planted her hands on her hips.
“You will address me as Mistress or Domina.”
It wasn’t that he had an actual problem with authority, although his childhood teachers and Samuel might disagree, but he couldn’t help himself, he reached out to brush his hands over the firm mounds of her breasts that were making a bid for freedom.
“No!” Elmo slapped his hand away. “No touching until I say.”
Chiz smirked and reached for her again.
She slapped his hand away again. “If you’re going to be a naughty boy, I will have to punish you.”
“Go for it, doll.”
Elmo’s expression was stern. “Strip.”
Chiz complied, smiling at the strict persona she was adopting. He expected her to make some comment when he stepped out of his jeans, since his cock was solid and nearly weeping with arousal, but she barely even glanced at it. She was really getting into her role.
“Kneel.”
Chiz followed her command. Elmo sifted through the items on the bed and picked out the length of material. She leaned over him, bending at the hips, to tie the blindfold in place. That put her breasts tantalizingly close, almost as if she was daring him to touch her. Chiz leaned forward, trying to bury his face in her deep cleavage.
“No.” She pulled back. “Do not move.”
Elmo leaned down again to tie the blindfold. As she fixed it in place, Chiz asked, “Have you done this before, doll?”
He couldn’t see her, since she was knotting the material behind his head, but her tone remained unamused. “If you keep talking, without addressing me properly, I will spank you.”
Elmo finished fixing the soft material in place and moved away. Disoriented by his lack of vision, Chiz lost track of her.
“Stand.”
Chiz was unbalanced without his sight, but he complied.
“Good boy.”
He jumped slightly when she placed a light, unexpected kiss at the nape of his neck. He’d been so busy trying to figure out where she was in the room that he’d missed the subtle cues of her approach. He felt her fingertips feather down his neck, over his shoulders and down his arms. The lightness of the touch brought his skin out in goose flesh. She gently circled each wrist with her fingers, bringing both his hands to the small of his back. He kept them where she had placed them. He heard the jangle of a chain, and then she was pressing the Velcro fastenings of the cuffs closed around his wrists.
Chiz felt Elmo moving away from him, heard her moving something, opening something, but he couldn’t tell what it was. He knew when she returned to him; the heat of her body was palpable.
He jumped and gasped when he felt the ice cube run across the back of his shoulders.
“Be still.”
Chiz tried not to move as the ice cube ran across his collar bone, but he couldn’t stop the muscles in his chest twitching at the contact. It took immense effort to remain still, to not make a sound as the ice was returned to his skin again and again, down the length of one arm, his chest, grazing a nipple, the side of his ribs, a shoulder, his chest again, the other arm, dangerously low over his abdomen, a hip.
When Elmo ran an ice cube down the length of his spine, continuing into the curve of his ass, he couldn’t stop himself from jolting forwards. “Jesus. Fuck!”
“Careful, or you will be punished.”
“If you say so, doll.”
“I repeat. You will address me as Mistress or Domina.”
It took everything he had not to move when he felt her ice-cooled fingertips running over his cock, just a whisper touch, so gentle it was almost like a breath. She teased him with light touches as he swallowed convulsively in his efforts not to cry out, he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of a reaction this time. When her fingers left him he let out a hissing breath; only to gulp it back in when he felt the heat of her mouth around him.
Once, twice, three times she took the length of him into her mouth. The fourth time Chiz cried out; she’d put an ice cube in her mouth as she sucked him. She tortured him, her tongue swirling the frozen ice in the heat of her mouth around him as she worked his flesh. Her mouth was the only part of her that touched him.
Suddenly it stopped.
He felt her move away again, heard her move around the room, but didn’t feel her approach him. His blood was singing and he had no idea where she was in relation to him until the tips of the suede strands of the flogger flicked against his chest. Chiz was so disoriented that he was beyond coherent thought, or it might have occurred to him that she was playing this game too well for a beginner. As it was, he could only stand and wait for the alternate snapping flicks and feather brushes of the flogger as she played it over his chest and back, then down his legs, behind his knees, before working her way back up again. When Elmo flicked it over his cock he moaned.
“Are you enjoying this?”
“Yes.” The answer was out, floating on groan, before he’d registered what he was going to say.
“Yes, what?” The soft lengths of suede swept over his aching cock, and then she flicked it over the solid, tender flesh.
He couldn’t focus on the question. “Fuck!”
He felt the heat of her body behind him. When she undid the blindfold he was momentarily blinded by the absence of darkness, even though the light in the room was low and dim. Chiz blinked several times before he could focus on Elmo standing before him, slapping the paddle against one palm.
“Kneel over the bed.”
Chiz moved stiffly to obey her. This was the toy he was least sure about, but he was deep in the game now. He knelt at the end of the bed so that his body from the waist up was flat against the cover, his head turned to one side so that he could see her. She stood behind him but slightly to one side.
“I’d put you across my knee but you’re too big. I think ten strokes should suffice.”
Chiz tensed and groaned. He should stop this. This wasn’t him. He should be the one holding the paddle. But the sight of Elmo so nearly naked yet so nearly dressed, her attitude, the whole weird place his head had been at for the past few days, combined to keep him where he was.
“Careful or I’ll double it.”
Elmo knelt on one knee by his side. She’d chosen the side to which his head was turned. He knew she’d done this on purpose because he had an excellent view of her pussy and he could see that she was sopping wet. He took in the flush that bloomed across her breasts and neck and swallowed to keep from groaning again. Knowing that she was turned on by what she was doing made his immobility even more torturous.
“One.”
&
nbsp; Chiz felt the paddle slap his ass cheeks, low and dangerously close to his balls.
“Two.”
She hit the exact same spot.
By the time Elmo had counted to ten Chiz couldn’t stop himself from grinding his hips into the bed. He was almost as surprised as he was aroused.
“Do you want to come?”
“Yes,” he answered through gritted teeth. He was struggling to make his peace with the vulnerability.
Yes, what?” She slapped his backside with the paddle again, but this time she’d turned it. Instead of hitting him with the smooth side, the textured side connected with his heated, tender skin. He felt the blow all the way up his spine and deep into low places in his gut.
“Yes, Domina.”
Elmo gripped his arm and pulled him up, exhibiting a surprising amount of strength and steadying him when he staggered. She spun him around, which unbalanced him again, and pushed him back so that he fell across the bed. He was helpless, his cuffed wrists pinned by his own body weight. Elmo discarded the paddle and retrieved the flogger. She snapped it in light flicks over his twitching cock until he came, spurting jism over his stomach and chest as he yelled to the ceiling, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
He lay still for a while, unsure whether he was in his own body or even in his own mind. Never, in thirty-eight years of life had he experienced an orgasm so intense without being buried in some hot, female orifice, and he couldn’t even swear to that. Elmo gave him a moment to recover before helping him sit up so that she could unfasten the cuffs. Chiz rubbed the feeling back into his arms as Elmo knelt on the bed behind him, massaging his shoulders and kneading out the knots in the muscles.
When he figured his legs would work, he stood. He still felt dazed, but he was moving steadily enough as he reached for a t-shirt and wiped himself clean. He paused with his back to the bed where Elmo was waiting in patient silence. He didn’t understand what had happened; he needed to understand it. He was fucking SAA of the Priests MC. He’d been an Enforcer for years before that. He was the person people feared. He did the things that no one else would do. He’d once tortured a man over three days using only a chisel, just to make a point after the clubhouse had been shot up. He did not go to his knees for a woman. He did not accept punishment from one.
Even as the residual lightning charges of pleasure in his cock reminded him how fucking good giving himself over to Elmo had been, his head demanded that he turn the tables back to where they ought to be.
He turned suddenly. Striking like a snake, he pushed Elmo back off her knees and grabbed her ankles, yanking until her hips were on the edge of the bed. He dropped to his knees, ignoring her protesting yelps, and buried his face in her pussy, licking and sucking fiercely. He hooked her knees over his shoulders, feeling the stiletto heels gouging into his back. He didn’t care about the pain. He gripped her thighs so tightly he knew she’d be bruised, making sure she couldn’t do anything more than writhe against his lips and tongue.
Chiz licked, sucked and bit until she was screaming begging him to make her come. That was what he wanted, her at his mercy, incoherent with pleasure that he was responsible for. Her juices flooded his mouth. She tried to twist away, too sensitive for him to continue his assault, but he wasn’t going to let her get away that easily.
He stood. His fingers were still buried in the flesh of Elmo’s thighs. He wrenched her hips up and off the bed and onto the solid length of his cock. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It was so good. So hot. So fucking hot and wet. Like silk set on fire. And it was his for the taking. He pumped his hips, hard and fast. Part of him was beyond caring if he was hurting her or not, part of him registered that the sounds she was making were of tortured pleasure... and a tiny little sliver of his brain, the part that worked overtime to keep him alive, reminded him that he was naked inside her.
She was coming. He could feel it. Without the latex it was so much more intense, so powerful, so intimate. He could feel the way her muscles rippled over his cock, clenching and pulsing. It was so fucking good. With a bestial yell that was sure to bring someone knocking on the door he jerked out of Elmo, almost brought to tears at the loss of the clenching silkiness. He came, impossibly, almost as forcefully as before, painting creamy white streaks on the armor of her corset.
Spun and weak, Chiz collapsed heavily onto the bed next to Elmo. They both noisily gulped air back into their lungs.
In an effort to retain the normality that he felt perilously close to losing, Chiz forced himself to find his cigarettes. He deliberately ignored the tremble in his hands, and the sting in his ass, as he lit the smoke. The first inhale was as restorative as holy water. Feeling something like human, if not himself, he propped his back against the headboard of the bed and concentrated on blowing perfect smoke rings.
“Fuck me.” Elmo’s voice was pleasingly hoarse.
“Just did, doll.”
Elmo reached, somewhat unsteadily, for his cigarette. He passed it over. She took two drags and handed it back for him to finish and then she climbed off the bed, careful not to make a mess of the bedclothes since she was still covered in semen. He tried not to watch her as she teetered into the bathroom on those spike heels, but seeing her wobble on them reminded him that there was some skin missing on his back. He wasn’t sorry about that. Even if it scarred, it would be a hell of a story, heavily edited, but still a hell of story.
When she came out she was still wearing the corset and boots, but they were clean, and she had regained her composure. She cast around for a few seconds, and Chiz wondered what the fuck she was looking for, until she found and pulled on the little shorts that she’d worn for all of five steps into the room.
He determinedly ignored the pang of disappointment.
As he ground the last of his cigarette out into the ashtray on the nightstand, Elmo retrieved and donned her boring yuppie coat. He didn’t move, just let his eyes follow her, as he retrieved the toys and put them back into the grocery sack.
“You okay, doll?” Where that question had come from, he had no idea, but it had slipped out all the same.
Elmo was patting the pockets of her coat. He couldn’t figure out what she was looking for, but she spotted something by the door and headed in that direction. She did whatever it was she was doing, then crossed the room back to where he was sitting on the bed. He was in the process of lighting another cigarette and she had to wait until he’d finished the ritual.
“Here.” She pressed a piece of paper into his hand. “My address. This place is giving me hives and it’s beginning to smell funky. Don’t come by before ten.”
Chiz struggled to make sense of this new layer of confusion on top of a night of what-the-fuck. By the time he’d gotten his brain onto one straight track, when he looked up, Elmo was gone.
Chapter Seven
A distracted dominatrix was not a good thing. She needed to get her head back in the game, the game that she knew the rules of, not the one that she was currently making up as she went along with a stranger in a cheap motel room.
Andy was perched on one of the padded benches in the dungeon room, sipping her coffee, and trying to figure out what the fuck had possessed her to give Chiz her address. True, the motel room was beginning to smell musky, and nothing about it was comfortable, but that was no reason to invite a stranger to her home, even if they had been fucking the living daylights out of each other for half a week. She was just begging to be murdered in her sleep.
The best answer that she could come up with was that she felt that Chiz had made a big concession to her the night before. He was not a natural submissive. The muscles, the ink, the bruises, the gun – and the bike, she hadn’t missed that parked outside his room – added up to badass. And in her experience, badasses were not subs. Even choosing to call her Domina, rather than Mistress, told her something about him. Domina did not convey the same sense of ownership that Mistress did; it was more of an acknowledgement of authority. He’d gone along with the game, and h
ad given her a lot of control, without knowing what the fuck he was doing, and she felt the need to repay that trust.
Sitting in the dungeon room was reminding her of what she did, the role she played professionally, and that it was usually only professional. Sensation play and a little paddling was one thing, but she didn’t normally break out the full Mistress of the Dark persona to do it in her personal life. In fact, without a solid relationship and the trust that went hand in hand with that, she didn’t usually get down to any kink at all. She knew better than most about the consequences when kinky shit went badly.
She still couldn’t figure out what had stopped her from telling Chiz that she knew exactly what she was doing with the toys and why. She kept insisting to herself that it was she didn’t want to give too much of herself away, and she called herself out on that bullshit, because it made no sense if she directed him to the place that she lived. That question was not going to be answered so easily. “Hey, baby. I’m a professional dominatrix.” There was nothing wrong with it, and yet she couldn’t see herself saying the words to Chiz.
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