by Livia Grant
She blinked and nodded.
“When asked a direct question you will answer yes, sir or no, sir. You’re earning quite a punishment for your lack of respect.” He added the last part mildly, and was rewarded with a slight intake of breath on her part. The thought of punishment turned her on.
Good.
“I’ll ask again, slave. Do you understand the terms of our arrangement tonight?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good girl. Now take off your dress.”
He snapped the shears in warning and it was enough to have her scrambling, pulling the stretchy fabric over her head.
The sight of her naked on her knees was definitely worth pushing through her power games. Without a bra, her breasts bounced slightly as they were freed. Lovely orbs, high and firm on her chest, soft curves juxtaposing the strong, supple elegance of her back. Her ass was perfection, or would be, when he removed her panties. He had a use for the shears, after all. He could buy her a new pair in the morning – and he had no doubt he could keep her as long as he wanted. She’d already obeyed his commands, responding without realizing why. The right mix of dominance and tenderness would coax the resistance from her; a few orgasms would blast any lingering doubts away. Once she lay pliant in his arms, he’d touch every inch of her, claim her body as his own. Forget three hours – they’d be here all night. In the morning, he’d take her home in his car.
His dick, hard enough to punch through the fine fabric of his slacks, approved of his plan.
Shears in hand, he snapped them in warning. “Hold very still. Mistake, wearing panties into this place.” Bending, he watched her chest rise and fall with pleasing distress as he snipped off the lacy scrap. He noted the cream on the gusset before folding them carefully and putting them in his pocket. She wouldn’t be getting those back.
“Walk to the couch, retrieve the cane and crop, and return them to me.” He’d laid a number of implements on the couch, but she didn’t hesitate. She’d done some research, and she was clearly intelligent. Just untrained. He kept firing commands, testing her. “Offer them to me on your knees. Head bowed, palms flat so I can lift the implements.”
When she obeyed, genuine pleasure colored his voice. “Good girl.” Another subtle quiver went through her at the compliment. So much fight up front, a bluff to hide the depths of her desire. How many times had she busted a man’s balls, testing to see if he had what it took to lead her?
“I am Master Kane. This is one of my implements of choice. This is the other. I tap and issue a command, you move, instantly, sub. I can tell you’re new at this.” He used a condescending tone, knowing that would set her teeth grinding. Tell a high-powered woman they're not good enough, and they’ll work fifty times harder to please you. “You’re mine tonight. And I’m going to make sure you have the time of your life. Sit up straight.” He used the crop to tap her back until she arched as prettily as he liked. “That’s it, show off those lovely breasts. The perfect handful, aren’t they?” Reaching down, he fondled them, ignoring her rushed intake of breath. “Very nice. Sensitive too.” He pinched a nipple, then swatted the whole globe so it jiggled. “Beautiful. I could have some fun with these.” He glanced at her face. “Could do without that glare, though.”
He had a thought. A quick interlude with a dungeon monitor brought him the gear he needed.
“If you want to stay masked, Miss Jones,” he put emphasis on the ‘Miss’ to be a dick, “then you wear the one I choose. This night, everything you do or say is on my terms.” He handed her a black leather hood, one with holes for her eyes and her mouth. “You may stand and go into the room to put it on.”
By the press of her lips he knew she was biting back her response. There was that delicious resistance, the inner fight. Her last stand, if he guessed correctly. Once she surrendered, she wouldn’t wrestle control back. He’d keep things moving too quickly for her to miss it. Deep down, she knew she needed to be overpowered for a night, forced to her knees by someone stronger. Someone she could trust to protect and guide her, usher her into the sanctity of her deepest fantasies. She wavered on the threshold, desire and reluctance warring on her face, and he knew the moment when desire won.
She took the hood, rose and went to the semi-private room to change. He enjoyed the sight of her hips and soft buttocks swaying, ready for his lash.
God, he loved being a Dom.
When she returned, he noted how her shoulders were tense, a little wary, but her gaze was on the floor. The mask was humiliating and comforting at the same time. It reduced her to a beautiful body, a mouth and pair of eyes, but offered her privacy. No one could see her expression, not even him.
He checked the fit and tightened the laces in the back. She’d done it up as much as she could, anticipating his moves, still trying to stay in control. He finished straightening the hood, making sure he could see her beautiful eyes and kissable lips through the holes in the mask.
“Can you breathe all right, sub?”
“Yes sir.” There was a slight tremor in her voice. She was affected.
“Good. If that changes I expect you to safeword. You look beautiful in your hood, sub.” He rose up over her and studied his slave for the night on her knees, naked except for a hood over her face. “You have permission to thank me.”
She was going to break a tooth from grinding them. The hood wasn’t uncomfortable, but she hated the feel of it wrapped around her face, enclosing her into her own private world. Somewhere in the club, a woman was protesting something, but Chessie couldn’t hear more than angry sounds muffled by the leather covering her ears. Chessie wanted to turn her head and see what the argument was about, but the mask was as effective as a hand wrapped around her face, reminding her that her attention, her very senses, belonged to this tall asshole who owned her for the night. She had to trust that if there was an emergency, or something she needed to know, he’d tell her.
He leaned down and spoke near her ear. “I’m waiting, slut.”
Prick. If anyone talked to her this way in real life, she’d deck them.
How can you stand it? she’d asked Mina in their heart to heart last night. How can you let go and submit to someone like that?
It’s pretend, Mina had said. I just play the game and have fun.
If this was the game, Kane was a master player. Every word and action made her solar plexus tighten. Her nipples tingled. If she wasn’t careful, she’d leak down her thighs.
She hated it, and she craved more.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Hmmm.” He circled, still holding the crop. Was he really going to use that vicious looking thing on her? How would it feel? Did she really want to know? “You don’t sound too thankful. Maybe this will help.”
He busied himself out of the line of her sight, and then – blackness.
“No!” She seized his pant leg, wavering on her knees.
“Yes.” He finished tying the blindfold and rose. She felt like flailing, looking for... anything. He’d hooded her as if she were a horse, a prize filly who might startle.
“I don’t – please, take it off.” It was too much, too humiliating. Her heart raced like she’d run a mile.
His clothes brushed her naked flesh as he bent and took her hand, his touch warm and comforting.
“Listen to me. Take a deep breath. That’s right, focus on me, and only me.”
He was close, very close, leaning down or maybe even kneeling next to her. She turned to him like a flower gravitates to the sun. She did as he commanded and loosened her grip, but he shifted his and caught her wrist, affirming his control as he kept up that mesmerizing whisper.
“I own your world.” His other hand touched her breast and she twitched in surprise. He cupped it, stroking so her nipple ruched even more tightly. The ache spiraled down to the cradle of her hips. “Do as I say and this will be the best night of your life.”
She sighed when he took his hands away.
“One more thing. Open.”
She did and groaned when he placed a ball in her mouth.
“See why you should thank me next time? No matter what I do to you, you should be grateful. It can always be much, much worse. Whatever it takes for you to learn your place. Now, rise.”
Even as he barked an order, he helped her obey it, lifting and steadying her with a hand on her shoulder and forearm. His arm slipped around her, like they were lovers at a dance, except she was totally naked and barefoot. A slave.
His fingers blazed a trail over her skin, finding their way unerringly to her labia, dipping between them.
“You're already wet. What caused it, I wonder? The hood? The promise of what’s to come?”
She grunted softly.
“Can't understand you. It doesn't matter. Your mouth can lie but your body tells me what I need to know.” He traced a finger down her spine. “Do you know what orgasm torture is, sweetheart?”
When she shook her head, the drool started to leak from the sides of her mouth; she felt it hit her breasts. He didn’t seem to care, he kept talking, kept stroking between her legs, little touches that didn’t quite hit her clit, driving her mad.
“I tie you down and make you orgasm so much you'll beg me to stop. And you know what I’ll do then?”
She was almost afraid to shake her head. He leaned so close, his lips must have been touching the hood.
“I won't stop.”
Only the confident movement of his fingers kept her from grabbing the hood and ripping it off. He kept it up, brushing her labia, spreading her juices around until her world tilted on its axis, revolving around him and his rasping voice...
“Now.” He took his hand away. She would’ve fallen but he captured her arm and propelled her forward instead. When she stumbled a little, he bore most of her weight, completely supporting her while holding her off balance at the same time.
Barefoot, she felt the difference in their height more acutely. His body engulfed hers. Next to his superior height and muscled frame, she was petite and feminine.
He dropped into a seat and she found herself flailing over his knee.
“Shhhh.” Again, he steadied her. “Calm down, sweetheart.”
His hand passed over her bare bottom.
“Time for your punishment,” he said, and she shivered.
She could always safeword, she reminded herself. How bad could it be?
Damn but he could live with this woman over his lap. If she was his full time slave, she wouldn’t go much more than an hour without him tormenting her delectable body, just so he could reward her with pleasure and cuddle her afterwards.
“This is for your disrespect earlier. I’m in charge here. You’ll remember that or come morning, your ass will be raw.”
He let loose a flurry of swats and watched the globes dance under his palm. She squirmed, resisting, and he secured her hands in the middle of her back. “Relax and take it, or I get a paddle. You don’t want wood stinging your ass this early in the night, trust me.”
He continued spanking her harder, faster.
Throughout the club, play was picking up. The dungeon monitors swarmed, making sure everything was satisfactory. Earlier, one sub had thrown a fit, snarling her outrage before stomping out on her Dom. At any moment the enigmatic Ms. Jones could decide to do the same. He’d take it as a testament to his skill that she hadn’t already, except there was something deep down holding her here.
Kane returned his attention to the quivering buttocks before him. His thumb teased her rim, noting how she tensed. Anal virgin, perhaps?
He was going to have fun with this one.
The spanking stung, but oddly enough the longer it continued the more she relaxed and let the pain flow over her. She was drooling, and dripping, but the arousal pulsing through her put her past all caring.
He stopped at times to touch her, and her pussy practically sucked his fingers in. She was a slut, wasn’t she? Getting turned on by a spanking? Her cheeks burned, making her almost grateful for the hood.
At last he swung her down between his knees, removed the blindfold, and unhooked the ball gag. She worked her jaw, relieved when he offered his handkerchief to clean her mouth. His hair was a little mussed from their play so far. After having been denied it for a few minutes, she drank the sight of him in before remembering his order to keep her gaze on the floor. His shoes were so shiny.
“Tell me about your last orgasm. You have permission to speak.”
“I... don’t remember.” Panicked, she almost forgot his title, so added quickly, “Master Kane, sir.”
“How do you usually orgasm?”
Fuck.
She shrugged, hoping he wouldn’t push the subject.
“That’s an order, sub. You will tell me,” his voice sharpened.
“I don’t.” Her own voice broke. “I can’t. I get there and... I just can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“A little of both.”
“Thank you for your honesty.” He touched her breasts again, circling the nipples with his thumbs.
“You’re a damn beautiful woman.”
She leaned into his worshipping fingers.
“Hands behind your back, offer yourself to me.” His soft commands threw her. The harsher he was, the more she wanted to defy him, but now, she arched her back as she obeyed, hoping her form was pleasing to him.
“Perfect.” He toyed with her a moment. “So, you say you can’t orgasm. I think we’re going to fix that tonight.”
He rested a hand at her throat, collaring the sensitive skin there, reassuring her before he rose.
“Come.”
He led her across the floor, and she followed, docile as a trained pet. The protest in her head had quieted, and she wasn’t nervous any more.
He stopped to watch one couple, and she waited with him. The man had his submissive tied to a spanking bench. He applied a paddle and a stingy looking whip to her naked rear. The woman cried out with each strike, but under the red marks on her ass, the tops of her thighs were shiny.
Chessie swayed a little and Kane secured her with an arm just under her breasts, pulling her so she molded against him, his front to her back. “I want to mark you, tonight.” He murmured, his lips pressed to the leather covering her ear. “I want you to wake up in the morning and know you’re mine.”
The man in front of them set down the paddle and the whip, and picked up a cane. After one strike, two faint lines appeared on her pale buttocks. The woman howled.
Chessie whimpered, and Kane held her still, forcing her to watch. The caning continued, each stripe looking more and more wicked. Would he give her a taste of it tonight?
“When you try to orgasm what do you do?” Kane’s arms tightened around her. “Don’t think, just answer.”
“I, um, touch myself.”
“Touch what, your clit?” One of his long arms slid down across her body so he could touch the place in question, a brief glide that still made her wobble.
“Yes.”
“Any penetration?”
“No. Not when I’m by myself.”
“Forgetting your manners again? Maybe when this couple finishes here I’ll have you take her place.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Good girl.”
Two words of praise and she melted into him. He was training her, like a pet. Only instead of treats she’d get orgasms. At least she hoped so.
Kane led her on, past more scening couples – subs in the depths of torment looking like they were in the heights of ecstasy. Nothing made sense anymore, but it didn’t have to. Chessie scuttled along in the shadow of her Master, grateful for his confidence. She felt small and defenseless, but safe.
When Kane stopped in front of a spare device; a long iron bar sticking straight up from the floor, taller than her and affixed to a stand on the ground. She started to move, to anticipate where he wanted her. He caught her arm.
“No. Follow my lead,” he murmured.
> So she stood ready and pliant, and let him place her so her back was against the iron bar. Her hands he cuffed behind her back. He cuffed her ankles at the base, too, with her legs slightly more than shoulder width apart. Her stomach did somersaults at the vulnerable pose. She was dripping and everyone could see.
“There we go,” he murmured as he worked. “All secure. No escaping anything now, slut. I can hurt you.” He pinched one nipple as if to emphasize his point. “Or I can make you feel good. My decision, my rules. Say ‘yes sir’.”
“Yes, sir,” she whimpered, and he pinched the other one. Pain zinged through her to detonate between her legs.
“Oh yes, you like that.”
She wanted to protest, but it was true. However he touched her – good, bad or indifferent – she responded.
“You’re so beautiful. There are men watching you right now. They want to fuck you, but you’re mine tonight, sweet slave. All mine.”
One thing about politicians: they all loved the sound of their own voice.
He left for a moment, returning with another pole on a stand, similar to one that might hold a microphone, except fixed to the top was a white vibrator almost as long as her forearm, with a bulbous head. She recognized it as one of the most powerful vibrators money could buy.
Kane kept talking as he set the smooth head of the vibrator between her labia. “I noticed you when I first came in. You looked so pretty. Elegant. A woman used to wrapping men around her little finger, but that’s not how it’s going to be tonight.” He finished setting up the vibrator firmly between her slippery lips, and gripped her chin. “You need someone to put you in your place, little slut. And that someone is me.”
How was it possible for her to be close to climaxing based on dirty talk alone?
Kane replaced the blindfold.
“For a chance to win a free membership, we need to stay in the scene for at least half an hour. I didn’t make the rule, sweetheart. A half hour of orgasm torture... starts now.”
He turned the Hitachi on. Chessie would’ve jumped if she hadn’t been tied up. As it was her hips twitched back and forth, rocking as far as she could go.
