by Amy Valenti
“I used to host play parties here as well as play privately. The local clubs are good, but not having to travel home after a hard scene is an advantage.”
I tried not to think about the other submissives Marc must have had over the years. You’re here and they’re not. Even so, I couldn’t help feeling a stab of jealousy.
“And just in case you’re wondering… No. I haven’t ever brought anyone from work here before.”
That smoothed my ruffled mental feathers a little. I wanted to ask why he’d made an exception in my case, but he continued before I could find the words.
“The play parties were always interesting. Just think of this room filled with subs just like you, writhing in pain and pleasure under their dominants’ commands. It was quite a sight…”
I could easily imagine it—could almost hear the cries of shock and arousal, the moans of agony and delight. I hadn’t ever really thought of myself as a voyeur, but I couldn’t deny that the idea of being amidst all that sexual deviancy made me wet.
“I’ve been off the scene for a while, though. Maybe I’ll make my grand re-entrance with you on my leash, wearing nothing but my collar and that beautiful smile of yours.”
He returned to his seat in front of me as I squirmed, my pussy hot and aching for stimulation. God, why was I so turned on by the thought?
Because everyone would know who you belonged to.
“Stand up, Eleanor.”
I got up as gracefully as I could, chancing a glance at him. There was something coiled in his hand, but I couldn’t make out what it was.
He opened his fingers and held it out towards me—a plain, black leather band with silver stitching and a shining silver buckle. A single silver loop—probably real silver—adorned the middle, more than big enough for a finger or a leash clip to hook through. The leather strip was too long to be a wrist adornment, and too short to be a belt.
You know what it is.
With a hand that trembled slightly, I reached out to take the collar from him. Up close, I could smell the leather and appreciate the intricate care that had obviously been taken with the stitching. I ached to feel the combination of warm leather and cool metal against my skin.
“It’s beautiful.”
“I picked it out earlier this week, with you in mind.”
Part of me wanted to bristle at his arrogance that he’d be able to get me to this point, but the rest of me didn’t care. After all, I had been fantasising about him all week, and it wasn’t as if he’d had to worry about wasting money if I’d refused his advances—he had money to burn. “If I wear this, what…?”
“It symbolises that we’re in play—that I’m in command and you will obey. The only way you get to refuse an order is if you safeword. When you wear this, you’re mine in the strictest sense of D/s. Disobedient behaviour and disrespect will be corrected with punishment. Obedience will be rewarded.”
I nodded, squeezed the collar between my fingers for a second, then held it out to Marc. “I accept, Sir.”
Chapter Four
He took the collar, brushing my palm with his thumb in the process, and I tingled from head to toe at the contact. This was more than just a game—it was a commitment, not to romance in the strictest sense, but to the power exchange between us.
“If you use the word ‘red’, the collar comes off. Not for good—unless that’s what you want—but until we’ve had a chance to discuss why you used a safeword.”
His eyes held mine, as if he were searching for comprehension in my gaze. All I knew was that I was desperate to be kneeling for him again. “Green, Sir.”
It wasn’t a word we’d negotiated, but since ‘red’ and ‘yellow’ corresponded with the meanings of stoplights, it was safe to assume he’d interpret ‘green’ in the same way. Marc’s lips twitched, and he curved an arm around my waist, dragging me up against him and giving my ass a light spank. “Impatient, by any chance?”
I bit my lip, trying to look repentant. It was more difficult than usual, since my nipples were rubbing up against his chest and I was fighting the temptation to grind my hips against his. “Sorry, Sir.”
“I’m sure you will be,” he said lightly, and released me. “Turn around and hold your hair away from your neck.”
Swallowing hard, I turned my back to him and did as he’d requested. It was pretty obvious what was about to happen, and the idea of him putting a tangible sign of his ownership around my neck was seriously turning me on.
A gentle brush of leather against my throat made me close my eyes. The buckle clinked and the cool metal ring at the front of the collar settled against my skin. Then Marc tightened the collar around my neck, and I let out a shaky breath at the feel of it lightly encircling my throat.
Yes.
He pressed his body against my back for a moment, then stepped back. “Turn.”
Feeling strangely shy, I turned to face him again, letting my hair settle back into place over my shoulders and down my back. Linking my fingers together behind me, I waited for his judgment.
“I’ve wanted to see you like this since that day in the cafeteria.” He looped his finger through the ring on the collar and pulled me into a hard, possessive kiss that sent a quiver through my body.
I melted against him willingly. If he was using his authority to make me do something I’d been craving anyway, who was I to argue? Too soon, though, he distanced himself, becoming the composed Dom once again.
What would it be like to break down that air of self-control, to tease his cock with my fingers and tongue until he was right at the edge, then to draw back and leave him gasping and desperate for stimulation, the way he had teased me back in my apartment?
Oh, great, Nell. He puts a collar on you, and all of a sudden you’re fantasising about making him beg? Some submissive you are.
I squashed the sarcastic observation and tried to calm myself down, waiting for Marc’s orders.
“Do you want me, Eleanor?”
I met his eyes, letting him see the undeniable truth. “Yes, Sir.”
“How much?”
That gave me pause. How was I supposed to answer? Something in his posture told me this was a test, of sorts. I didn’t know the rules, didn’t know what he’d deem an unacceptable answer, so it seemed safe to assume he was giving me a certain amount of creative license.
I watched him for a moment, and he gave a slight nod, as if giving permission for me to take the initiative. I could have thrown myself at him—wanted to, needed to—but I held back, the collar around my throat grounding me a little. Instead, I reached out and took his hand, watched his eyebrows rise slightly in surprise as I held it between both of mine for a moment.
Then, once I was sure he hadn’t surmised what I was about to do, I guided his fingers between my thighs. Careful to avoid my clit, though I yearned to feel his touch there, I brushed them through the abundant wetness coating my pussy lips. “This much, Sir.”
Marc rested his fingers a little more firmly against my skin, and I dropped my hands to my sides, giving up control again. My pulse pounded through my clit and I wanted to whimper when he made no attempt to caress the sensitive spot, but I’d chosen this.
His voice was low and a little rough with arousal. “That’s a lot.”
I kept my mouth shut with an effort, pretty sure that if I spoke, it would be to beg him to stop stating the obvious and just take me, already. When he gave my clit the lightest of caresses, then pulled his hand away, I almost gave in to the urge to beg. If he hadn’t tugged me over to a piece of equipment that looked a lot like a gymnastic vaulting horse, leading me across the room by the ring on my collar, my resolve might have broken completely.
“Lean over.”
The top of the vaulting horse was cool against my bare stomach as I did. After a few seconds, though, Marc asked me to straighten again. “Sit astride, instead.”
I levered myself up on top of the platform, and my feet dangled an inch or so from the floor on eit
her side. Where was he going with this?
“Now lean forward.”
Oh… I did, pillowing my head on my folded arms. My breasts, stomach and pussy pressed against the smooth faux-leather of the horse and I shivered lightly. Marc wasn’t finished, though. With his hands on my hips, he pulled me backwards, dragging my body along the surface so that my ass was right at the edge.
“Perfect,” he said, running his palm over my ass cheeks, and I closed my eyes, knowing I was now in a prime position for a spanking.
For a few long, torturous minutes, he didn’t touch me. He seemed to be gathering equipment, from the sounds I could hear.
“Remember your safewords,” he warned, and I raised my head off my arms to nod before steeling myself.
He started off with his hand. I flinched at the initial stinging spanks, which he delivered at an increasingly rapid rate. It didn’t take long for me to warm up, though, and I began to relax into the blows, becoming familiar with his rhythm and the heat spreading over my skin.
Just as I’d become used to the spanking, though, Marc stopped, squeezing and rubbing the warm, tingling flesh of my ass and the back of each thigh. “You should see yourself right now,” he told me. “You’re a lovely shade of red. I can even see a handprint or two.”
The idea of the imprint of Marc’s hand left on my ass was impossibly erotic. I rubbed my nipples against the vaulting horse in front of me, arching my back with a sigh, and a hard slap to my right calf muscle left me breathless.
“Don’t you dare try to pleasure yourself without my permission,” Marc admonished sharply.
“Sorry, Sir,” I whispered, forcing myself to keep still, although I was longing to rub my clit against the surface. The combination of his attention and the pain had made me so wet, and I was so desperate for friction…
“Stay as you are. Now I’ve warmed you up, I’m going to try something with a little more bite to it.”
I stayed put, breathing deeply and savouring the residues of pain and pleasure as they gradually faded. After a few seconds, Marc placed his hand on the small of my back for a second, as if warning me without words that he was about to begin again.
Something new hit my ass—something heavier, which made an almighty slapping sound—and I gasped as much from shock as from the flare of dull pain. I wanted to ask what it was, but part of me didn’t want to know unless Marc decided to tell me, so I kept my mouth shut.
As with his hand, he kept things slow and steady for a while. Maybe he saw the tension in my shoulders, or maybe he just sensed my initial jumpiness at this new, thudding type of pain. After a few blows, I realised the loud slapping sounds that accompanied them had more bark than bite, though I wasn’t sure exactly why. They still had an effect on me, but they didn’t scare me the way they had initially. Once I got my head around that, I relaxed a little…and Marc stepped things up.
He hit me with an unfaltering rhythm—left cheek, right cheek, left thigh, right thigh—and dimly, I understood that he was hitting harder as time went on, but it didn’t seem to be having as much of an effect after a while. I began to crave more than what he was dealing out, leaning back into the strikes as if I could make them harder by doing so, and I could have sworn I heard Marc give a quiet, breathless laugh behind me.
He set down whatever he’d been using, and I raised my head with a disappointed whimper, looking over my shoulder to realise it was some kind of leather paddle. When he raised something that looked a lot like a many-tailed whip with knots in the end of each tail, I knew my eyes widened. What would this feel like? I got the feeling the knots would hurt.
“Green?” Marc asked me, bending over me to speak into my ear.
I shivered at the vibration of his voice against the sensitive spot, wondering if it turned him on to deal out the pain as much as it turned me on to receive it. “Green, Sir,” I murmured, turning my head to nuzzle his cheek. I couldn’t help it.
He gave my collar a quick tug for reassurance, then straightened again. Feeling a pang at the loss of contact, I settled back into position, waiting for something to happen.
He didn’t disappoint.
I felt the breeze shift against my tingling, warm skin just before the flogger hit my ass for the first time. It just brushed me on the left cheek, but then struck the right dead on, more quickly than I’d been expecting. I’d been right about the knots—they stung my flesh, the lashes of pain a stark contrast from the paddle’s thud-like strikes, and I found myself flinching and gasping all over again at the new agony, loving and fearing it all at once, anticipating each whirl of the leather tails with excitement and dread at the same time.
The intensity built higher, higher, higher still, and I bit back a cry, arching away from the flogger’s evil caress, inadvertently pressing my clit hard against the platform beneath me at the same time. “Oh, god!”
Marc seemed to ease off after that, just a little. I didn’t know if he was being considerate or whether his arm was just tired, but either way, I didn’t get to the point where I tried to jolt away again. Part of me secretly longed for it, but I knew I’d probably feel differently if it came to that intensity again.
I’d long since lost track of time, but after a while he put down the flogger and began to smooth his hands—which seemed cool in contrast to my practically glowing skin—over the area he’d been flogging. I realised I was trembling when he encouraged me up into a sitting position and guided my arms around his neck. I buried my face in his neck as he pulled me from the vaulting horse and over to the bed. His naked chest was warm against my breasts, and I couldn’t stop a purr of appreciation.
After lowering me to the mattress, he smiled down at me. “You did well, Eleanor.”
“Thank you, Sir.” I rolled onto my stomach, easing the pressure on my flogged ass, and watched him over my shoulder as he stripped off his pants.
His cock was just as impressive as I remembered, and just looking at the thick, hard appendage made my overheated pussy squeeze in anticipation. I’d seen him naked this afternoon, in his office, but I’d been blindfolded until he’d been inside me, and after we’d finished I’d been too dazed to really get a proper eyeful until his erection had subsided.
I wanted to take him in my mouth almost as much as I wanted him to fuck me.
Chapter Five
Marc sat down on the edge of the bed and I turned onto my side, reaching for him. He leaned over me, sliding his naked body the length of mine, and I relished the feel of his weight on top of me for the brief moment before he rolled to the side.
His kiss was forceful, ravenous, and I moaned into his mouth, wrapping one of my legs around his waist and grinding my hips against his. His cock felt so good sliding against my clit, and his low grunt of want just fuelled my need. The sounds of our naked bodies against the sheets, the slight sway of the bed as we rocked together, so close to being connected…everything was so intense, and I couldn’t help myself any longer.
He grabbed my wrist just as I closed my fingers around his cock, his expression disapproving. “Have you forgotten who’s in charge here, Eleanor?”
God, how could he think straight to play power games, when with one thrust of his hips he’d be slipping deep inside me? I took a shuddering breath, trying not to arch up and take control of the situation.
“No, Sir—I just want you so much.”
He eased his body away from mine, and I bit back a curse of frustration. A rush of realisation and anticipation set my pulse racing as he began to trail kisses downward from my navel, over my trimmed pubic mound, then down between my pussy lips.
Oh…my…god…
Marc ran his hot, skilful tongue from my perineum all the way up to my clit, then drew the hypersensitive bud into his mouth almost immediately. I gave a soft moan, shifting my legs farther apart, resisting the urge to drape one of them over his shoulder and pull his head in closer to my aching pussy. Somehow, I doubted he’d appreciate me practically smothering him.
He dr
ew back, and this time I did whimper.
“This room is soundproofed, so if you need to scream my name at any point, feel free.” Although still completely in control of the situation, Marc let me see his mischievous side, his eyes gleaming with playful arousal. The combination of his dominant arrogance and good-humoured teasing was a heady aphrodisiac, and I took his advice, crying out sharply when he swirled his tongue over my clit again.
His hands tightened on my thighs, then slipped around to cup my tender ass, encouraging me to press harder against his lips and tongue. I did exactly that, trying to control the involuntary shaking of my thighs when he flicked the tip of his tongue against the perfect spot.
He worked two fingers into me gradually, using small, shallow thrusts to prolong my frustration. I gave a sharp gasp when he coupled a long, languorous suck on my clit with a curl of his fingers, massaging my G-spot just right and adding another dimension to the pleasure.
I was flustered and trembling, my body alight with primal want, every muscle coiled in preparation to release. I knew he must be desperate to come, too, but he showed no signs of indulging his own needs, just burying his face against my sensitive skin harder.
Marc didn’t let up for a second, fucking me with his fingers and licking me with a finesse I’d never experienced before. I forgot everything else, taking shallow gasps of air without remembering to breathe out again as my toes curled and my fingers tingled.
He drew my clit into his mouth and suckled on it once more, and my pussy spasmed around his fingers. The orgasm crashed over me, obliterating all of my senses save the ability to feel the incredible sensations pulsing through my body. I was dimly aware of him releasing my clit, of my husky cries of satisfaction, but everything else ceased to matter.
By the time I came back to awareness, Marc was beside me again, his body flush with mine and his arms wrapped around me.
“Thank you, Sir,” I murmured against his neck.
He stroked his fingers down my spine, sending a light ripple through my skin.
