Fling

by Sara Fawkes

  Ariel hissed in a breath, her hips pulsing forward against the hard muscles of his thighs, and he knew that the balls were creating a deep, heavy arousal for her.

  “It takes a very strong woman to submit.” He traced a gentle finger through the crease that divided her ass and enjoyed the resultant shiver. “Do you understand?”

  Ariel’s head jerked in a semblance of agreement, and, his palm cupped, he delivered a loud spank directly over her labia.

  “Fuck!” The word erupted from between her lips, but this time she didn’t turn to glare. He tapped again, and she cried out, her voice nearly incomprehensible. “Yes, damn you! I understand!”

  “Good.” He again stroked his hands over her bottom, enjoying the satin texture of her skin. “I’m going to give you five more blows. You may cry out, but if you dare say another word against yourself, the number will double.”

  She uttered a choked sound, then subsided. He waited a moment until her tense muscles began to relax a bit against him.

  One. He counted the blows in his head, savoring her startled cries every time his palm met her flesh. He knew that the Ben Wa balls would be awakening nerves she didn’t even know she had, and the way she writhed beneath him confirmed it.

  He ground his teeth together as her movements worked his cock. It took supreme self-control not to simply flip her over onto the bed and bury himself inside her.

  “Marco. Please.” Ariel whispered the words as he gave her the fifth spank. Her skin was flushed, her bottom the red of ripe fruit beneath his hand. She vibrated in his lap, and he knew she was reaching for the release that was just out of her reach.

  It gave him deep pleasure to be the one pulling such pleasure out of her.

  “I want you to come for me now, Ariel.” Sliding his hand over the curve of her ass, he slipped between her legs and plunged his fingers inside. She cried out as he thrust his fingers in and out, his thumb rubbing over the distended nub of her clit at the same time. He could feel the Ben Wa balls rocking against the tips of his fingers, could hear the quickening of Ariel’s breath, and knew that her tightly coiled arousal was about to spring free.

  “Come, Ariel. Now.” He pulled his fingers from her and gave her one final spank across the puffy flesh of her labia. He felt her entire body tighten, then melt, her voice echoing off the high ceiling of the suite as she unraveled.

  Even though his cock was throbbing with his own unrequited lust, he felt satisfaction surge through him. She hadn’t submitted to him—hell, they’d barely started. But this first taste whispered in his ear, tantalizing him with hints of what was to come.

  ARIEL WAS STILL naked though minus the killer red shoes that she’d bought on a whim before she’d left for Italy. She knelt on a soft satin cushion on the floor, her shoulder pressed against Marco’s knee as he sat in an armchair.

  Marco had arranged her in that position before she’d fully recovered from the maelstrom of the orgasm that he’d pulled from her. She would have protested if she’d been able to think, but his touch had pulled all thoughts but satisfaction from her head.

  After placing her on the cushion, he’d seated himself in the chair and proceeded to feed her with his fingers, bits of strawberries and mango interspersed with sips of tart champagne. She felt that she should be outraged at the arrangement.

  Instead, she felt strangely content. And it hadn’t escaped her notice that though she’d had a mind-numbing orgasm, his cock still tented the front of his pants. She knew that his arousal had to have reached painful proportions by that time, and yet he calmly ignored it, instead focusing on her.

  Ariel jolted as a knock sounded at the door to the suite.

  “Come in.” She frantically covered her breasts with one hand, her bikini area with the other as Marco’s voice broke the comfortable silence in which they’d been sitting.

  “Uncover yourself.”

  She turned to gape at him, still clutching her hands to her breasts.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Ariel looked around frantically for a robe, a blanket, something with which to cover herself. She could just see the headlines now:

  POP PRINCESS AND WEALTHY TYCOON CAUGHT IN FLAGRANTE DELICTO DURING FETISH WEEK

  “Ariel.” Marco’s voice was sharp, and she turned to find his attention solely focused on her, even as an older man dressed head to toe in black entered the suite, carrying a large gold box.

  Ariel was mortified though she knew she shouldn’t have been. She’d been onstage in front of thousands of people wearing not much more than this, and been fine—she’d even felt sexy.

  This was . . . different. She felt exposed.

  “Bring that here, if you would.” Marco accepted the box from the bellhop, nodding to dismiss him. As the older man silently left the room, not even a flicker of his eyes showing that he might have been surprised at Ariel’s nakedness or that he’d recognized her. Marco placed the box gently in her lap.

  “You are beautiful, Ariel, and once I have won your submission, that delectable body will be mine completely.” She frowned, not sure she liked his words. “At that point, if I want you to perform one of your concerts in nothing but your skin, you will do so, simply because it pleases me to share your beauty with the world.”

  “No way.” Ariel’s words sounded false even to her ears. The idea of stripping and running around naked on her own accord was absurd . . . but the idea of being naked because she’d been commanded, of being absolved of any shame, was arousing.

  “You’re not ready,” Marco agreed, and Ariel was surprised to feel a stab of disappointment.

  “Yet.” His voice was husky. She turned to look at him and found his face infuriatingly calm, as always. He nodded toward the box that she held. “Open it. These are your clothes for the evening.”

  “When the hell did you have time to order up some clothing for me?” Ariel fumbled with the stiff lid of the cardboard box. She stilled as she understood. “Pretty damn sure of yourself, aren’t you?” She heard his chuckle though she focused on opening the box and sifting through the mountain of tissue.

  “There was a connection the first time that we met. You know as well as I do that this was inevitable,” he said.

  Ariel refused to look at him or to acknowledge his words. She didn’t believe in fate. Everything she’d gotten had been the result of hard work—she’d clawed her way out of small-town Wisconsin with blood and sweat and tears.

  “This is because you’re hoping for a way to get me to sign your damn contract.” She felt Marco’s muscles tense against her shoulder, and she wondered at it, but she didn’t stop to gauge his reaction, unhappy that she might have displeased him.

  The she lifted the clothing he’d selected for her from the box, and thoughts of anything else disappeared from her head.

  “You can’t be serious.” The box held what she supposed was a dress, but it wasn’t something that even she would wear, not even in a music video.

  It consisted of a black lace bra with a swath of knee-length black fabric sweeping from the underwires. The entire garment—what there was of it—was completely see-through.

  “You get panties too.” Marco helpfully pulled something that looked like a series of looped ribbons from the box, tossing it on top of the “dress” that Ariel held out with disbelief.

  Those weren’t panties. Those were strings with bows on the sides and a teeny triangle of lace that wouldn’t even cover her pubic hair.

  “Marco, you can’t seriously expect me to wear this out in public. There are paparazzi everywhere. This could do all kinds of damage to my career.” And yet she couldn’t stop the image of Marco slowly stripping the black lace from her body.

  Pulling at her shoulders, Marco urged her to stand in front of him. He was so tall, and she so petite that the position brought their eyes nearly level. As she trembled beneath his intense stare, he undid the bows of the panties and slid them into place, tying the bows again at her hips. He slid the dress over her head, adjus
ting each breast into its cup.

  She became aroused beneath his touch, but at the same time she felt that that wasn’t the point. He was taking care of her, she realized—doing things for her so that she wouldn’t have to do them herself.

  He pulled one last item from the box, and Ariel saw that it was a black satin scarf. He smoothed it between his fingers, and Ariel couldn’t tear her eyes away.

  “The resort is well guarded. No paparazzi could get in.” His voice was somber, and Ariel felt as though she’d somehow let him down. She wasn’t sure how, but she didn’t like the feeling.

  Tilting her head up, Marco raised the scarf. Ariel caught one final view of his bright blue eyes, then the scarf was wrapped around her head, obstructing her view of anything but darkness.

  “Trust, Ariel. You have to trust that I won’t do anything to harm you. I won’t do anything you don’t need me to do.”

  “I didn’t want a spanking.” She reached out blindly, was reassured when she felt the firm flesh of his thigh beneath her fingers.

  She couldn’t see him smile, but she knew he did, regardless.

  “I said what you need, Ariel. Not what you want.”

  Chapter Four

  ARIEL WAS WONDERING if she’d gone completely crazy.

  She’d allowed Marco to blindfold her, and that hadn’t been so bad. But when he’d opened the door to his suite and guided her out—when she’d had to trust him entirely not to lead her into danger—she began to see what it was he was asking her for.

  Complete submission. Complete trust. Placing her well-being in his hands and trusting that he would take care of both it and her.

  She’d heard whispers a few times along the walk to the club that they were now in. Even blindfolded, her face was a recognizable one. Though she cringed inwardly, she tried to keep Marco’s assurances in her head.

  She supposed that even if a picture of this were to get out to the press, it would only increase her fame and notoriety. No one would have to know that it killed her to see something private splashed out on newsprint.

  “Come.”

  He’d said he was taking her to play in the rooms set up for Fetish Week, and though she wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, she had a fairly good idea. She’d been able to tell when they’d arrived because the sounds reaching her ears had changed from the lulling whispers of the sea to a Metallica song that she vaguely recalled from her early teens. The music was loud enough to drown out any whispers she might hear, and as such she became hyperconscious of the fact that she couldn’t see if she was drawing attention.

  Every step that she took, even guided by Marco, was difficult. She was thoroughly disconcerted, and she wasn’t sure that any amount of pleasure would make up for it.

  “Turn.”

  Ariel thought that they’d passed into a separate room since the music and the cacophony of voices faded somewhat. Marco guided her with light touches on her shoulders.

  When he stepped back from her, and she could no longer feel the warmth emanating from his skin, she shivered.

  “I’m going to take your blindfold off now, Ariel, but I want you to focus only on me. Do you understand?” She paused, then nodded. She felt his fingers at the back of her head, undoing the blindfold, and her vision returned, blurry, as her eyes watered from the sudden brightness.

  They were in a conference room of some sort, but in place of the standard table and chairs, there were various pieces of . . . hell, she didn’t have any idea what to call them. A few pieces looked like gymnastics equipment, and there was a large wooden cross against one wall.

  A small table was strewn with things that looked like . . . were those seriously whips?

  Ariel began to panic. Anyone with a cell-phone camera could take a picture of her here, with all of this stuff. She started to turn, to look over her shoulder, to see if anyone was taking too much of an interest, but Marco caught her chin in his hand.

  “Eyes forward.” He squeezed gently, then released.

  Ariel felt a wave of nerves, but they subsided when she looked into his eyes and saw the calm that resided there. The others in the room faded away, and she became entirely focused on him.

  “What’s your safe word, Ariel?”

  She blinked, flipping back through her mind. “Red.” Her belly began to clench. What was he going to do to her that she might need a safe word?

  Her mind flashed back to the spanking—her bottom was tender and sore—and she had a sneaking suspicion that he’d started her off easy.

  “I’m going to restrain you. Are you okay with that?” Her knee-jerk reaction was to scream out in the negative. What kind of woman wanted to be bound and helpless?

  Marco leaned forward and pressed a kiss lightly to her lips.

  “If you say red, I will stop immediately, and we will talk. But to ease your mind further, there are dungeon monitors who are constantly circling the play areas. Their entire purpose here is to make sure that people are safe. Understand?”

  Slowly, Ariel nodded, biting her lip. A voice from behind her broke through the music, and she heard her name clearly. Her eyes darted to Marco’s, saw him scowl over her shoulder before returning his gaze to her.

  “You’re a beautiful woman, baby, and your job means that you cause a bit of a stir wherever you go.” Slowly, he pulled the straps of the dress down until her arms slid free. He tugged until her breasts popped free of the dress, the underwire pushing them up high.

  He filled his palms with them, and her eyes blurred.

  “Even if you weren’t famous, you’d attract a good deal of attention here, Ariel. You’re a spectacularly gorgeous woman, and you have the makings of a very sweet submissive.” He rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, and she moaned. “But the only person you need to care about is me. You are here to please me, nothing else.”

  Slowly, she nodded. Held in his gaze, she let the pulse of the music fill her veins in the same way it did when she was performing.

  It felt good. It felt right.

  “Time for the restraints.” Reaching up high, higher than Ariel could have reached without a ladder, Marco took the cuff that was at the end of a chain in one hand and Ariel’s wrist in the other. Never taking his eyes off her, he buckled her wrist in, then repeated the process on the other side.

  “Marco.” Anxiety sliced through her veins like a razor blade as she pulled at the chains and found that she was well and truly restrained.

  “Breathe.” Clasping her around the waist, he slid his hands down her body as he knelt in front of her. “Trust me.”

  Easy for him to say, she thought, as her ankles were bound just like her wrists. She found herself spread-eagle, facing the wall of the room.

  Marco stood, and before her eyes he seemed to grow taller, more intent. More . . . dominant. He eyed her coolly as he stepped forward and, raking his fingers through her long, golden hair, pulled it into a tail that he secured with the blindfold.

  “There is nothing you can do to save yourself, little sub.” Ariel’s eyes widened. “You are under my control entirely. What I do to you, I do because I want to, and because I am responsible for both of us. Do you understand?”

  Ariel sucked in a breath before nodding, and it wasn’t until after she’d agreed that she understood.

  There was no need to feel embarrassed because she was absolved of responsibility.

  She was not the one acting wanton, chained and open. She was presented that way because of him.

  Relaxation unlike anything she’d ever experienced settled over her, the sensation not that different than if she’d chugged a liter of wine.

  She had so many things to control in her daily life. Being freed of the need to do anything but feel was . . . freeing.

  “Lovely.” Marco smiled at her, a full smile that transformed him from a dark, wicked-looking angel into someone who literally took her breath away. Pulling his toy bag close enough that he could access it easily, he moved between Ariel and the wall, dropping to h
is knees before her.

  Clasping her hips in strong hands, he pulled her forward. She had no choice but to go with his movements.

  Then his breath misted over her lower lips, and every nerve in her body sprang to life.

  “So pretty and pink.” With one hand, Marco parted her folds, the tiny triangle of her panties no hindrance at all. Ariel felt cool air hit her clit, cool air quickly followed by warmth as he swiped his tongue through her folds.

  “Aah!” She tried to jerk away from the sensation, which was overwhelming, but restrained as she was, succeeded only in rocking her body back, then forward into his mouth again.

  Marco scraped his teeth over her clit in warning, and she hissed out a breath.

  “Don’t do that again.” He didn’t tell her what he would do if she did, leaving it to her imagination.

  It was effective.

  And then Ariel couldn’t think at all, her attention focused entirely on the wet heat between her legs. Marco licked her with slow, deliberate strokes, over and over until she felt everything inside her coil tightly, ready to explode.

  Just when she was at the edge, he stood, removing his lips from her flesh. Her eyes, which had been closed in ecstasy, flew open, and she was pretty sure that she whimpered.

  “What . . . why?” She had a hard time focusing her eyes, but saw that Marco had reached into his leather toy bag and withdrawn something that looked like a whip . . . except it seemed to be sized for BDSM Barbie.

  She opened her mouth to ask him what it was, and he shook his head in warning.

  “No questions. You will take what I give you.” He flicked the small thing through the air, and the leather tails snapped, making Ariel jump.

  “You may cry out if you wish.” Marco cocked his head, as if granting her a great boon. Annoyance worked its way through Ariel’s receding arousal.

  When he let her down from here, she was going to throttle him.

  Snap. Her need came rushing back tenfold as he flicked the tiny little whip right between her legs. A startled cry escaped her lips, then another, as he flicked it again.