“No. God, no. Honestly, the two things aren’t related, and I’ve never told any of my other subs about this. I didn’t want to explain myself, you know?” I gave a short huff of a laugh. “Explain why I’m into hurting women when I can’t stand people who hurt women.”
“You shouldn’t have to explain.”
“I mean, I would, but I don’t know how.”
“It’s definitely different,” she said. “The women you hurt want to be hurt. You need it to be consensual, even if you pretend there aren’t any safe words.”
“Yeah.” I thought a moment. “The safe words are in their faces. In their body language. I’m careful with my partners, you know?” I gave another short laugh, covering the pain. “What my father did to my mother—it had nothing to do with caring. It was all about hatred and defilement.”
I clamped my lips shut, swallowed hard. Collected myself. Ella watched me, wide blue eyes behind her brainy glasses.
“I never hate anyone I play with,” I said. “I don’t hate, period.” I wanted to say more, about how hate poisoned lives, how hate resulted in broken bones and black eyes, how hate made life into hell, but I couldn’t. I wanted to explain how hate had made me feel helpless and useless, how I’d never been able to protect my mother or myself.
She took my hand in a warm, soothing grip. “I’m sorry, Devin. How long did you have to live like that?”
I let out a breath. “Until my adoptive father befriended my mother. She worked at a small airport he flew out of, serving food in the cafeteria. He noticed the bruises on her arms, and the way she wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, but he drew her out over time, gained her trust and learned her story. By the time he convinced her to leave my father, the two of them had grown close.” I paused, remembering how he’d changed my mother with his love and understanding. How he’d given her the courage to change. “My first father was the worst of the worst. My second father is the best of the best. Maybe your father falls somewhere in the middle,” I said. “Not a great father, but at least he’s capable of love.”
She was still studying me with a sympathetic gaze. “It’s hard to believe you came from a man like that.”
I wished now I hadn’t told her. I’d buried my past deep and built a new life for myself, a life that started when I was six years old. “You shouldn’t feel sorry for me,” I said. “Everything’s great now. I learned that it’s not normal to hurt women, unless it’s the kind of hurt they enjoy. Speaking of which…”
I needed to stop thinking about my past and start thinking about sex. The noise swelled in the room again, a raucous round of laughter from one of the corners. I leaned close to Ella, taking in her fresh, vanilla-tinged scent. “I want to hurt you, little horndog. And fuck you, although I don’t think you deserve to have it feel very good.”
Her shiver thrilled me, and the way she leaned into my body made me hard. I smothered a curse and beckoned for the check, eager to get her to my place. I decided a good, old-fashioned paddling and anal session would make my sassy scientist a sorry little rule-breaker. Bonus: we’d both have a lot of fun.
*
As soon as we arrived at my apartment, I made her strip down to her panties and kneel by the couch while I got the paddle and lube.
“I want the tour,” she pleaded when I returned. “Your place looks so…beautiful. Don’t you want to show me around before we begin?”
My place wasn’t beautiful. It was a bare-bones bachelor pad, earth tones and chrome, and she was trying to distract me from my purpose. I nudged her chin up using the long, thick paddle. “What did I tell you when we talked on Friday night?” I asked in a stern voice.
“You said…” Her voice trembled. “One last orgasm.”
“That’s right. I said you could have one last orgasm until I got back. But you had more orgasms, didn’t you?”
“Just one.” She shifted on her knees. “It was the butt plug, Sir. It made me horny. You said I had to wear it every night.”
I frowned. “So it was my fault you couldn’t obey a simple directive?”
“Yes. No. I mean…” She sighed. “A bunch of pressure and horniness built up inside me. I’m sorry. But I promise, I swear, I only orgasmed once. And I was wearing the plug at the time, so it hurt a little bit. I didn’t break that rule about coming when you were hurting me, because you kind of were.”
“I’m kind of going to again, naughty girl,” I said, pulling her across my lap. “But this time I’ll be hurting you with this paddle, and my big dick up your ass. So, you know, feel free to come if you’re able to.”
Ha. I knew she’d be able to. I peeled her panties down her legs and left them around her ankles, then thrust my fingers between her pussy’s folds. They came away soaking wet.
“You can’t control your horniness, can you?” I taunted. “This is supposed to be a punishment for breaking the rules.”
“I know, Sir. I’m sorry.”
“You’re going to be sorrier when I’m done with you.”
I arranged her so her ass was in the air and her hands and toes braced against the floor. “I don’t want any flailing around,” I said. “And no screaming and yelling. This apartment isn’t soundproof.”
The Gallery was soundproof though, and I’d have her screaming and yelling there soon enough. This weekend, if her uniform was ready. I tapped the paddle against her round, luscious ass, admiring her pale cheeks. Her legs trembled as she waited. God, I wanted to mount her that second. No, not yet.
Instead, I gave her a sharp crack with the paddle. She kicked her feet and sucked in a breath.
“Keep those toes on the floor,” I told her. “I’m just getting started.”
She resumed her position, whimpering softly. Crack. Crack. Crack. I left some time between each spank, enough of a pause to make her nervous about the next lick, but not enough to allow for any relief of the pain. Her agonized contortions were beautiful. Each time I brought the paddle down, leaving a bright pink mark, she bucked in my lap and kicked her feet.
“Oh, please,” she said. “Ouch. I’m so sorry.” She whispered the words over and over, but otherwise she kept quiet, expressing her dismay in muffled squeaks and tears. Her glasses fell to the floor and I set them on the end table so they wouldn’t break.
“Had enough yet?” I asked.
“Yes, Sir. Please.”
“It’s too bad we’re only halfway through.”
Her moan went right to my cock, which crept toward the waistline of my pants, hard, thick, ready. I wanted to be inside her so bad, but I also wanted her ass to be stinging like a swarm of bees before I fucked it, so I continued the paddling, alternating from cheek to cheek, occasionally catching her on her sensitive upper thighs. She made tiny, frantic sounds as her pink cheeks deepened to red, but it was from repetition of blows, not force. By tomorrow, she wouldn’t have so much as a bruise.
But she was hurting and squirming, which was perfect for both of us. She kicked so much—even with my reprimands—that her panties flew across my living room. I made her stand while I retrieved them, then ordered her to open her mouth. I balled up the scrap of nylon and shoved it between her lips, then ordered her back over my lap.
She complied, tearful and resigned. From then on, her whimpers and groans were muffled, until, eventually, her ass was paddled scarlet. She must have been in a world of pain, but of course, nothing was more exciting to her. As I put down the paddle, she humped her clit against my thigh.
“No,” I said, smacking her hot ass with my palm. “You’re not allowed to come from rubbing your clit this time. If you want to come, it’s going to be with my cock up your ass.”
I spread her cheeks open with one hand, revealing the tender, unmarked pucker of her asshole. I flicked open the lube’s cap and dripped a dollop of slickness into her crevice. I shoved a finger inside her, so her back arched from the shock. The copious lube had me sliding all the way to the knuckle. I added more lube for good measure, then released her so I could
strip off my clothes.
She turned to watch me, looking guilty and lustful at once. Good lord, she was a fucking flirt, with a mouthful of panties, no less.
“Face the front,” I said. “You already took what you wanted while I was away. Now I get mine.”
I sat on the couch again and lubed my cock, then grabbed her hips and drew her back toward me. “Spread your legs and sit on my lap,” I said. She crouched down, letting me guide her scarlet ass cheeks toward my jutting tool. “Steady,” I said, and she draped her knees over mine as I held her waist and aimed my cock at her lubed hole. “You better be ready for me, bad girl. Are you ready?”
“I’m scared,” she whined through the panty gag as I started pressing the head inside her. “Please. Owww.”
“What?” I taunted. “I’m having trouble understanding you.”
Now that the head had pushed into her tight ring, I grasped her hips and pulled her down, making her accept the rest of my throbbing organ. One inch. Another inch. I watched myself sink inside her, stretching her, hurting her. Her muffled groan of pain made my cock surge to maximum fullness, which stretched her butt even worse.
“How does that feel?” I asked. “Does it feel as good as the butt plug you had to wear? As good as the orgasm you enjoyed when you disobeyed me?”
She made a strangled sound that might have been yes, or no, or fuck me harder. I decided it was the last one, and pumped my hips so she bounced on my cock, the lube making a squelching sound each time I slid into her ass. Her squeals and groans drove me wild. She made me feel like an animal, and the best part was that she loved when I treated her that way.
I was so close to coming, and even though she’d been bad, I wanted her to come too, because she gave me so much pleasure that my body was going to explode.
I slid my hand between her legs and gripped her pussy, bucking harder as her cries rose behind her gag. “If you’re going to come,” I said against her ear, “you’d better come now. Right now, while I’m hurting your asshole.” I punctuated each word with a sharp smack to her clit, and by the time I got to the word asshole, I could feel her channel clamping down on my cock.
The sharp, tight pressure of her climax made my own orgasm explode. I held her hips, fucking her hard, staring at her red ass cheeks and thinking, I love her.
What? Hell. I’d only known her for a couple of weeks, so love? No. But we’d developed a deep, comfortable compatibility I hadn’t felt with my other submissives.
It had to be the glasses. I picked them up from the end table and handed them back to her. She spit out her panties and said “Thank you,” and I laughed at her polite tone with my cock still buried in her ass. I made her lie back against my chest, and we rested together, our bodies connected. Her hair smelled like warmth and cookies, and all the good things.
“That’s what you get,” I said, running my fingers over her shoulders and arms. “Naughty little rule-breaker.”
“You’re so mean to me. Which I love.”
I snorted. “That takes all the fun out of it.”
We eventually separated ourselves and washed off in my shower. She was so delectable—red ass, freshly fucked, her hair piled on top of her head because she didn’t want to wash it. I wanted her to stay over, but she said she had to go home since she had work in the morning. I won the argument with promises of another orgasm to come.
I lied when I said her enjoyment took all the fun out of it. Her enjoyment meant so much to me that it was starting to freak me out.
Chapter Fifteen: Ella
My Gallery uniform arrived Friday evening by courier. I signed for the unmarked box, then hurried to my bedroom, because I knew what was inside.
As I pulled the tissue-wrapped pieces from the box, I marveled at the level of quality and detail. So exciting, that someone would make this racy uniform especially for me. There was an embellished bra with open cups, meant to highlight naked nipples. I shuddered, thinking how handy that would be for a sadist who was into nipple clamps.
The matching garter belt was a streamlined design of mesh and straps, decorated with tiny beads and understated lace—beautiful but harsh. It covered very little, and what it did cover was outlined with straps, like a harness. The uniform was intended to flagrantly present the female body for sex.
It turned me on so much I could hardly breathe.
The uniform came with three pairs of matching stockings, black stilettos, and a narrow silver collar. I picked it up and turned it over in my hands, fascinated by its suppleness and faint leather smell. I’d never worn a collar, because I’d never been in that kind of owner-slave relationship. I flipped over the lock attached at the center front and read the fine print: Property of The Gallery.
It meant I belonged to everyone there, ownership en masse. For the first time, I thought about what that really meant. It didn’t scare me. I was daring when it came to kink, and, as Devin knew, I’d had a highly enjoyable group experience before I left Pisa. But it was weird to think that right now, there were Dominant men who might touch me or hurt me, or even fuck me in The Gallery tomorrow night, and I hadn’t even met them yet.
Right now, those men might be getting a drink after work, or heading to the gym, or to a lover’s apartment. I held the collar up against my neck, then buckled it on, getting used to the mild feeling of constriction, the way the leather felt against my skin. Then I put on everything, as the note from Michelle instructed. Make sure it all fits…
It fit me like a second skin, not just physically, but mentally. As I looked in the mirror, I thought of Devin, my complicated sadist who came from a home with the wrong kind of pain. I knew he was flying into New York later tonight from a short hop through Europe, so I wasn’t sure my text would reach him, but I snapped a photo of the collar on my neck, with its dangling lock. I was careful to crop out most of my face—thanks to Leo, I no longer felt comfortable putting it out there—but I included my fingers tracing over the smooth leather. The message was I wish you could touch me right now.
I thought about texting more, like Wow, I love this, or I can’t wait, but it wasn’t necessary. Devin would understand.
Chapter Sixteen: Devin
I was deadheading back from Austria—flying as a passenger rather than a pilot—when I got Ella’s photo. Milo was beside me, having visited Vienna for business. He leaned closer when he saw my screen light up.
“Are there titties?” he asked. “I need to see some titties.”
“You could have had titties if you went to Bratislava,” I said, pushing him away. “They have the busiest dungeon in Europe.”
“You wouldn’t go with me, and I hate to prowl alone. Show me the damn picture. Is it Kellie? She’s hot as fuck.”
“No, it’s my scientist.” I handed him the phone. “Sorry, no nudity. She won’t do photos or videos for me.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“She’s smarter than the other ones, I guess.”
He gave me a look. “You’re into this one, aren’t you?”
I shrugged. “We’ve hooked up a few times. She’s fun to hang out with, and she has a high pain tolerance. She fucking loves pain.”
“She has a nice neck,” Milo said, looking at her photo. “You bringing her to The Gallery tomorrow?”
“Yeah, she’s going to love it.” I took my phone back. “She must have just gotten her uniform. She’ll probably sleep in it tonight.”
“What’s her name again?”
I had this weird impulse to say Dr. Ella Novatny. I was proud to have found her, because she was so intelligent, so gravitationally wise, and she had those black-rimmed glasses. I’d make her wear them at The Gallery, since blindfolds weren’t allowed. “Her name’s Ella,” I said. “She’s different from other subs I’ve played with, in a good way.”
“You going to let me have a turn with her?”
“Sure. She’s just your type.”
“Good. So she’s not a pain pussy, like Juliet?”
“She’
s no Juliet. Although Fort fucking loves Juliet, so I wouldn’t call her a pussy in front of him.”
Milo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, they’re cute together. Honestly, I didn’t peg her as the girl who’d turn him.”
“‘Turn him?’ Turn him into what?”
“A monogamist,” he replied, in a tone someone might have used for “serial killer” or “rapist.” Milo Fierro’s negative views on exclusive relationships were well known. “Fort never should have brought Juliet to The Gallery if he didn’t want to share her.”
“He wanted to share her,” I pointed out. “He just…couldn’t.”
I wouldn’t be like that with Ella. She was too kinky and highly sexed to keep to myself, and the truth was, she’d go wild for the pain The Gallery’s Doms would heap on her. “You should definitely work her over tomorrow,” I told Milo. “Once I’m done with her, of course. She’s going to love you.”
I tried to ignore the needling stab of jealousy those words brought as I texted back to Ella:
The collar looks good on you. We’re going to have fun tomorrow night.
Chapter Seventeen: Ella
I had my uniform on when he arrived, along with a coat.
Well, obviously a coat. I wasn’t going to stroll out of my apartment in my sex gear. And it was sex gear, one hundred percent. When I’d put on everything together—the bra, garter belt, stockings, stilettos, and collar—I’d looked super slutty and, well, super available, but that was okay. I completed the look with sex-siren makeup, dark lipstick and contour, as well as the non-waterproof mascara Devin insisted I wear. For trails of black misery on my cheeks? I’d texted him.
Fuck yes, he’d texted back.
I wanted to cry for him tonight. It didn’t come naturally to me. I made sobbing sounds during most scenes, but real tears rarely came.
“Hello, beautiful,” he said, hugging me close as soon as I opened my door. He looked amazing in his dark suit, the Dominant of my fantasies. His fingers moved over my thin coat to locate the garter belt straps underneath. He followed them down to my ass and squeezed my cheeks really hard. I teetered on my heels, because they were higher than I was used to. “Where are your glasses?” he asked.
Deep Control Page 12
