by Alison Tyler
“Lift your hips.”
He placed the towel beneath me, and then started to spread the shaving cream over my pussy lips. I keep myself neat and trim at all times, but Jack spread the cream all over the entire region of my sex, and I understood that he was going to shave me bare.
Jack worked quickly, without any apparent fear. He slicked the razor over my skin, then dipped the blade in the glass of warm water. He moved my legs wider apart when he needed to and used his fingers to pinch my lips, maneuvering me exactly how he wanted.
When he was finished, he brought me into the shower and had me wash away the shaving cream. Then he said, “Sit on the edge of the tub and spread your legs.”
I obeyed immediately. Jack bent on his knees in front of me, and he used his tongue to make sure he had performed the job well. I was entirely bare, completely clean. Jack tricked his tongue over me, until I had to grip onto his shoulders to keep myself steady. I felt as if I were floating, lost in the pleasure, until he stopped, abruptly, and led me back into the room.
“Your outfit is in the top drawer,” he said. “Be ready when I get out of the shower.”
My legs were weak. He had almost brought me off with his tongue. But I should have known that there would be more to his plan. Jack never stopped at the expected. He always took an encounter further than I could envision. I opened the drawer to find a red plastic bag with the edge sealed over. I carried the bag to the bed and sat down, nerves electrified. The bag didn’t seem all that big. Not big enough to hold an entire outfit. But it was. Inside the bag I found a black vinyl dress with a silver zipper that ran its length. One tug and the wearer would be entirely revealed. I wondered if I should put on a bra and panties beneath the dress. But Jack hadn’t said to, and there were none in the bag.
Quickly, I slid into the dress and pulled the zipper. Jack knew me so well. The glossy material fit my body perfectly. I ran my hands over the shiny surface, then returned on a whim to the drawer. Yes, at the very back was a pair of shoes. High spike-heeled shoes. I was sitting on the edge of the bed working the buckle on the ankle when Jack came out of the bathroom. He had a white towel around his waist, and he looked as desirable as he always did.
“Stand up,” he said.
I did my best, tottering in the heels.
“Turn for me.”
I spun around.
“Lovely. Now lie down on the bed while I get ready.”
Moving was difficult. The dress was so tight. But I scooted back on the mattress, leaning on the pillows once more. Jack bent down and looked up the line of my body, and I knew he was gazing up under the hem to make sure I hadn’t snuck on a pair of underwear.
“Good girl,” he said as he got his own clothes on. “Lift your dress for me.”
With effort, I slid the hem up past my thighs to my waist. Now, Jack had on his black slacks and a black short-sleeved T-shirt. He came to my side, parted my freshly shaved pussy lips, and let me see the silvery clip in his hand before he clamped it to my clit. He was a true magician. I bucked immediately, but Jack shook his head.
“Behave,” he warned. “You take it.”
I nodded, that first spark of pain rushing through me before slowly subsiding.
“It’s going to be a long night, baby,” Jack said, and he pulled a collar from the bedside table and motioned for me to sit. I felt him fasten the buckle into place tight on my neck, but not too tight. “And I want you to make me proud.” The leash that dangled in his hand sent panic through me. Was he going to lead me through the lobby like an animal? I couldn’t fathom that. Nothing we had done so far had prepared me for this sort of endeavor. “Jack,” I started, the words coming before I could think to stop them. Before I could quiet my inner worries. “Wait …”
“Ah, baby,” Jack murmured sadly, and almost before I knew what was happening, I was ass-up over his lap, in what I could only think of now as a standard position for me. Was there a day when Jack didn’t give me an over-the-knee spanking? I didn’t think so. I couldn’t remember one. “I thought I’d get to deliver your first spanking of the evening when we got there, Samantha. But I guess you need a little taste before we go.”
His hand came down hard and fast, no gentle warm-up, no sweet caressing of my curves. The pain was instantaneous as always, but all I could think of were the words: When we got there.
Where?
Where were we going?
I could only imagine.
Chapter Thirty-One:
Love Is the Drug
The sleek leather collar had a silver loop at the front, and I fully expected Jack to clip on the leash and walk me down the hallway toward the elevator like some trained pet on display. I felt a wave of fear at the thought. What would he do to me? Would he make me crawl on my hands and knees? Would he smack me with the doubled-up leash if I misbehaved? He hadn’t played with me like this before, and fear nearly paralyzed me.
I thought of begging, of telling him I’d do whatever he wanted within the confines of our room if he would only put that leash away. But that was silly. He knew I’d do whatever he wanted. I had no bargaining power, no tricks down my garters. No garters at all.
Still, I thought of trying, of bending over the bed, spreading my cheeks, of asking him to fuck my ass. Jack loved when I asked for this, when I begged for it. That turned him on like almost nothing else. Nothing except when I asked him to whip me. When the need overflowed, spilled from my lips, Jack basked in my begging. Somehow I could tell that he had his mind made up. There was nothing I would be able to do to alter the course of the evening.
This is why I was surprised when he took pity on me. Pity Jack-style, that is. After spanking me until my ass felt neon-red, he stood me up and flicked the clamp off my clit with a casual gesture of his fingers. Then he grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me toward the corner of the room, and I understood immediately. I’d been naughty. I was to face the corner. My dress still hiked to my hips, scarlet cheeks on display for him.
Listening to Jack getting ready wound my nerves even tighter. I didn’t dare look at him, and I couldn’t fathom what he was doing from the sounds of the motions. And then finally I got it. He’d poured himself a drink and was relaxing on the bed. Reading the paper? Maybe. Or perhaps looking for something in the paper. Was he taking me out to a show dressed like this? My heart thudded. How long would he make me stand here? The shoes were crazy-high, and I had to work to stand straight and tall, focused intently on how every part of my body felt. My ass throbbed. The thin leather bands of the shoes cut into my ankles. My pussy …
“Turn around,” Jack said suddenly.
I did what he said.
“Fix your dress.”
My fingers fumbled as I pulled the fabric back into place. Jack tilted his head at me, taking in my entire outfit. Then he came forward and lowered the zipper on the dress in the front, giving him access to my breasts.
“Offer them to me,” he said. “Hold them out.”
I lifted my breasts for him, and he quickly fastened a clip onto each one, letting the cool silver chain dangle between them. When he zipped the dress back up for me, I looked down. I could easily see the outline of the nipple clamps and the chain pressed against the vinyl dress. Shame floored me. If I could see the clamps, then anyone could.
“Perfect,” Jack murmured, as if the final touch was all I needed to make myself presentable. He grinned at me, that half-smile so disarming that for one moment, I felt my worries disappear. And then flare right back up again as I watched him slide the leash into his pocket, then motion for me to follow him. My heart was beating so fast that I was sure he could hear the rhythm of it. Maybe that’s the sound he decided to fuck me to. Because as soon as we got into the elevator, the one with the hellish-red light glowing overhead, Jack pressed the UP button and pushed me toward the wall. My hands went up automatically, bracing myself as Jack worked my form-fitting dress back to my hips. That dress was definitely getting one hell of a workout.
&
nbsp; “I love the way your ass looks after a spanking,” he told me. “So sweet and cherry.” He stroked my hot skin and then leaned forward. I could feel his cock against me, pressing. Was he really going to fuck me in the elevator?
That’s easy to answer: Yes.
I didn’t say a word, didn’t beg or plead. I had an inkling that tonight would be full of surprises, and I could read Jack’s moods fairly well already by now. He was waiting for me to make a false move, to give him one reason to take me to my limits. The spanking had been a warning, a quick and powerful way to let me know not to mess with him, not to disobey. But I didn’t want to disobey. I’d been dying to have him take me ever since he’d shaved me bare.
His cock slid inside me easily. As usual, the spanking had made me wetter than I wanted to admit. How could it be punishment if my pussy responded with such immediate pleasure? Jack didn’t say a word about how turned on I was. He fucked me, as fiercely as I could take, one hand hovering near the row of buttons, so that the elevator shot up to the top floor, then back down to the middle.
I wondered what Jack would do if someone chose to get on. I could see it in my head, a shocked patron watching the doors slide open, seeing Jack thrusting into me, seeing the red light coloring my already crimson ass.
“You like that,” Jack said, as if reading my mind.
“Yes. Yes, Sir.”
“The thought that someone might see you.”
“Yes, Sir,” I told him.
“Don’t worry, baby. Plenty of people are going to see you tonight.”
My body responded instantly, my inner muscles clenching down on him. People, I thought. People are going to be seeing me. Jack brought one hand up into my hair, pulling my head back. “God, you’re tight,” he moaned. “So fucking tight.”
I don’t know how long he worked me, I only know he didn’t come. He simply pulled my hips back forcefully against him, sealing our bodies together, as the elevator made the final true descent to the lobby.
“Good girl,” Jack said, when I remained silent. My eyes were squeezed shut, and I was certain we’d get caught. But I would not beg him to pull out. I would not give him a reason to spank me in the lobby. I had a vision of him doing exactly that. Sitting down on one of those velvety lounges and thrashing my still-throbbing ass with the cruel leather of his belt. Would we be arrested for that? Or did patrons at the upscale hotel find this sort of X-rated display amusing, entertaining even?
As my mind raced, the doors slid open—but we escaped unscathed, Jack pulling out and tucking himself back into his slacks before anyone could see us. He kindly blocked my body with his, readjusting my dress one more time for me, and then led me out of the elevator and into the ultrachic lobby. I was shaky on those heels, anyway—more so now, so freshly fucked—but I realized as Jack held me around the waist and herded me toward the outer doors that he hadn’t walked me on a leash. He hadn’t made me follow on all fours. He had been kind, had taken pity on me in his own way.
I don’t know Manhattan well. Once, when I was younger, I got turned around and headed nearly ten blocks in the wrong direction before a kind shopkeeper told me that the Empire State Building—where I was supposed to meet my friends—was the other way.
So I don’t know where Jack instructed the cab driver to take us. I only know that once we were whizzing in the right direction, Jack gripped the back of my head and pulled me down to his lap.
His zipper was open. My lips were wet.
I knew what to do.
Chapter Thirty-Two:
Safe
When we got to the club, Jack paid the cab driver, but he didn’t lead me to the front door. Instead, he ushered me around the corner, into the mouth of a dark alley, and pulled something unexpected out of his pocket.
“Put these on.”
They were panties, ruffled black satin panties with full coverage, front and rear. I didn’t understand, but I didn’t hesitate. Jack held me steady while I stepped into the knickers and slid them up under that tightest of dresses. I don’t know why I was always so many steps behind Jack, why I could never see the full picture. Because as soon as we entered the club, he herded me to a “coat check” corner, unzipped my dress with one quick tug, and handed the sleek sheath to the pretty dreadlocked woman running the booth.
I’d thought the panties were to make me feel more comfortable, less exposed. In a way, they were. I’d probably have hidden under a chair if Jack had made me walk around entirely naked. But I wasn’t far from it. I crossed my hands over my breasts, and Jack pulled my hands down to my sides and relieved me of the nipple clamps while that pretty girl watched. Then he handed over a bra that matched the panties.
It was as if I were in one of those dreams, where you find yourself naked in a store window, and people point at you and stare. No, I wasn’t naked, but the bra and panty set didn’t provide me nearly as much coverage as I would have liked.
“You’ll feel better like this, won’t you?” he asked, as if he only had my best interests at heart.
Before I could answer Jack, he had moved on, now fastening that hateful leash to my collar, giving the coat check—dress check?—girl a wink, and dragging me along on those tottering heels behind him.
The crowd was made up of a mélange of hipsters. Mostly young, mostly dressed in dark colors, all looking as if you could cast them in an ad for some cool new vodka. When I looked around the room, I saw that Jack was the most out of place. He was older than many of the patrons by a good two decades, and he had on simple, expensive black attire. No rubber or vinyl or netting for Jack. But he moved as if he owned the place, his confidence so obvious, so attractive, that I knew that when people stared at him, it was in awe or lust, not condescension. He let the leash hang between the two of us, not keeping me tight at his side, but I worked to stay close by. I didn’t want to be caught up, twisted around other people.
I wanted to be next to my man.
Jack didn’t spare me a glance; he simply led me through the crowd to a corner of the room where a long, leather bench ran the length in both directions. I didn’t have to be told not to sit at his side. I sat on the floor, my knees beneath me, my back arched, and Jack put one hand on my head, kindly stroking my hair as if I truly had become his pet.
The music was loud, as it had been in the club with Nathan, and the room was warm from all the dancing bodies. But as I looked around, I felt that I fit in. There were others in attire (or lack of attire) similar to my own. I saw collars and cuffs and a variety of toys on display. I actually started to relax.
Jack was hardwired into my emotions. How else would he know to act as soon as I began to feel comfortable? How else would he understand exactly when to strike in order to keep me off balance?
He bent down to whisper into my ear, “Choose your safeword.”
This wasn’t anything we’d talked about before. Jack read me so well that I put my trust totally in him. I didn’t ever think I’d want him to stop before he was ready. “It can’t be ‘No,’” he continued, “because sometimes ‘No’ doesn’t mean ‘No.’”
I nodded.
“It can’t be ‘Please,’ or ‘Stop,’ or anything that might come to your lips accidentally. You have to think of a special word, and then you have to tell it …”
I thought he was going to say “to him.” What other words would complete that sentence? But Jack was different. Jack was always three long strides ahead of me.
“You have to tell it to him.”
Jack motioned to a man standing nearby. Someone I hadn’t even noticed yet, my eyes busy roaming the crowd, looking for like-minded subs. This man was dressed in the part of the Dom. Leather pants. Tight black shirt. And a crop in one hand. Did he know Jack? Were they friends? My mind raced faster than ever, whirling with possibilities. Jack owned a place in New York. I knew that. But I hadn’t considered that might mean he was a regular at clubs like this, clubs that catered to the darkest of sexual fantasies.
“Go on, now,�
� Jack hissed, tossing the handle of the leash to the man. “Make sure you tell him, Sam. He won’t stop otherwise.”
Oh god … oh, my fucking god … Had I thought Jack was kind for giving me panties to wear? Had I thought he was considerate for taking off those painful clamps and providing me with a bra? There was nothing kind in his blue eyes now. There was nothing considerate at all in his expression. It was as if he were a stranger.
The man tugged on the leash and I felt my heart stop. The collar was pulled tight on my neck, and I had no choice but to stand and follow or be dragged along behind. But dragged where? I turned my head, looking at Jack, pleading with my eyes, and felt a fresh wave of ice-cold panic when I realized he wasn’t even paying attention. Was he not going with me? Was he not going to come?
I wondered suddenly if this was another test. I understood now that I should have refused to kiss the waiter. I’d learned that much. Should I now refuse to let this man, this Dom, whip me, even if that was what Jack wanted?
I tugged back on the leash, using both hands, and the Dom stopped and turned, and I saw a smile on his face that I was entirely unprepared for. He came close and bent down low. “Spunk,” he said, “I like that. So many subs come along willingly, no heart at all.” His grip was like iron as he brought my wrists down from the leash and captured them easily behind my back. I was wrong to think that Jack wasn’t paying attention, because there he was behind me, locking my wrists into place, making the concept of struggling that much more difficult.
Still, I wasn’t ready. I pressed back against Jack, pushing my body into his. I turned my head to look over my shoulder, meeting his eyes.
“Go, Samantha. Follow him.” His expression was stern.
“I will,” I said, my voice shaking, “If you want me to. But I need to know …”
He put up a hand, stopping the Dom from moving, and he turned me around to face him.
