by Ravenna Tate
When it finally stops, I’m panting. He holds the bottle to my lips again and I drink greedily, draining it. “Do you need more?”
I glance up into his face. It’s wet with my juices, and the contractions begin again at the sight. “No. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
He gives me a quick kiss. “It was my pleasure, Chelsea. I told you how much I love to do that.”
“Did I taste all right?” Hot fear pricks my skin as his eyes narrow. “I’m only asking because no one has done that before.”
Slowly, he licks his lips, his eyes gleaming with mischief. The gesture is so sexy, it sends shivers down my spine.
“That’s a ‘yes’ then.”
“It’s a definite ‘yes’. Now, are you ready for that flogger?”
I smile. “Definitely.”
Chapter Six
At first, the swats are light, almost playful. As with the open-handed spanking, he works up slowly, increasing the strength until it burns as badly as the paddle did. I enjoy it for a moment, but soon it’s not pleasant, only painful. “Yellow.”
When his face comes into view, he’s visibly sweating. No wonder he talked about having to stay in peak physical condition to do this. “What you do you need, Chelsea?”
“Um, I have to pee, and I’m not enjoying this very much.”
He unfastens the cuffs around my wrists and ankles. “Can you be more specific about what you aren’t enjoying?”
“It’s the feel of the beads embedded in the leather. They’re like bee stings, and it’s…” I struggle to find the right words. “It’s like pinpricks instead of global pain, if that makes any sense. Gives me the impression someone is poking me with needles.”
“Ah…” He nods slowly while he helps me off the pads. “That does make sense, and thank you for taking the time to fully explain the sensations and their effect on you. Very helpful.”
Once more, I’m filled with pride at the way I’ve communicated. My body is soaked in sweat, and that embarrasses me, along with my sudden inability to walk a straight line. He’s right there, holding my elbow as I walk. The gesture steadies me.
“I’ll be right out here if you need me.”
Inside the bathroom, I have to gawk a bit first before I take care of my needs. It’s all gold and white in here, with little touches that remind me of pictures of palaces I’ve seen. Does he do all this himself? Does he live here? Are all these rooms up here mini apartments? It would make sense. This is a warehouse, after all, with a ton of square footage.
Once I return to the bedroom, he asks me to take a seat and drink another bottle of water, and then he goes into the bathroom. While he’s in there, I glance around the room, searching for clues to my questions. But unless I start opening doors and drawers, I won’t find them. That’s too intrusive, so instead I drink my water.
When he comes out of the bathroom, he picks up the strap and asks if I want to continue. Tingles spread over my arms and legs as I stand and nod. “Yes, please.”
“I’m impressed with how much you took your first time, Chelsea. Turn around and let me have a look. I want to make sure you can walk in the morning.” Standing there, having him examine rear end in this way, so clinically, is unnerving. “You’re quite bruised. Let’s try something before we continue.”
He retrieves a jar from one of the dresser drawers and opens it, filling the room with the scent of eucalyptus. When he massages some into my skin, the cooling effect also helps with the soreness. “That’s nice.”
“Great. Let’s try a different restraint system this time.” He leads me to a stylized version of a St. Andrew’s Cross. This one has two crosses, held together at the points on the X by beams, top and bottom, about two feet apart.
“So you can restrain two people at once?”
He gives me a lopsided grin, which sends my heart fluttering. “If I so desire, yes. But what I really like about this one is you can tilt the Xs, like so.” He unlatches something behind the X and tilts the top of the cross downward, all the way to ninety degrees, then back up again, stopping at about forty-five degrees.
“That should do. Step closer, please.” After he locks the cross in place at that angle, he helps me position my body, facing it. Using the leather straps attached to the cross, he fastens my wrists and ankles. “How does that feel?”
“I’m comfortable.”
“Good girl.” When he pushes against me, I moan as his dick presses into my ass. “See why I like this so much?” His voice is soft and smoky now, and I’m out of my mind as he rubs his cock against my skin.
“And I can do this much easier, too.” His hands reach around and cup my breasts, kneading them until I’m whimpering and panting. Another climax is so close. “Chelsea, you make it so hard to keep my focus.”
As quickly as it started, he moves away. This time, I’m able to glance over my shoulder. He picks up the strap and strolls toward me, his eyes dark and intense. I swallow hard. This is what I’m here for, after all.
“I should blindfold you.” He mutters it, almost like an afterthought. The image in my mind sends shivers down my spine. “Perhaps later.”
The strap stings like fucking crazy. I yelp and try to dance away, but of course I can’t. “Do you like this one?”
“Yes,” I whisper. It’s much better than the beaded flogger, once I get used to the sensation.
“When you’ve had enough, safeword. I won’t stop until you do. Are we in agreement?”
“Yes.” The control I have with a safeword is intoxicating. I hadn’t expected to have any at all. It strikes me that reading about these concepts and experiencing them are extremely different.
As the pain increases, my mind goes blank and I relax my muscles against the soft leather of the cross, moaning loudly as he slaps the implement across one cheek, then the other, over and over. Only this sensation isn’t slow to build like his hand was. This one bites right out of the gate, and doesn’t let up.
Tears run down my face as the pain becomes so intense, I can’t tell where it ends and pleasure begins. I’m floating again, watching the scene instead of experiencing it. Nothing exists except the snapping noise of the strap, and his loud exhale each time it tears into my flesh. I should safeword, but my mouth won’t move.
“Chelsea, I need you to drink more water, please.” The concern in his voice brings me to my senses, and I glance around, confused.
“What happened?” I’m on the sofa again, wrapped in a soft blanket and held in his arms. What the hell?
“You went into subspace so deeply that you couldn’t safeword.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, no. There is no reason to apologize. It happens.” He holds a straw to my lips. “Drink, please.”
I do as he says, but my thoughts are still confused. “How did you know I was in subspace? How long have we been on this sofa?”
“About five minutes. I knew because I asked you a question and you didn’t answer me. Your skin was clammy, and your gaze wasn’t focusing.”
My heart pounds as hot fear slices through me. “That’s scary.”
“And, it’s why Doms need to recognize the signs and be ready to stop the scene. We’re done for now.”
“Oh…” Disappointment floods me. I’ve failed him.
“You need some rest. We’ll see how you feel afterwards.”
“Slade, I am so sorry.”
“Chelsea, there is no need for an apology. You did nothing wrong. There is no right or wrong way to play. This survey was to determine how much you could take, and that’s exactly what we accomplished. But I can’t send you home like this. It wouldn’t be responsible of me.”
He stands with me still in his arms and carries me toward the bed. How in the world he accomplishes this is beyond me, but I’m too tired to comment on it. After he places me on the edge of the bed, still seated, he hands me another water bottle. “Please drink this.”
I do, and then gaze up at him, still trying to focus my thoug
hts. “I don’t want the night to end yet.”
His expression finally relaxes. “You may stay until morning, per our original agreement. I’ll stay with you while you rest. You won’t be alone.”
My gaze drifts to his erect cock. “This isn’t fair to you. I came, but you didn’t.”
When he clears his throat, I realize it’s because he’s trying not to laugh. Why is what I said so funny? “Don’t you worry about that. It wasn’t my goal tonight.”
“But that’s not fair,” I repeat.
“Chelsea, thank you for your concern, but I assure you, I am fine with this. Lie down. Get some rest.”
I’m too tired to protest further. I curl up on my side, smiling wide as he nestles in behind me, wrapping one arm around my shoulders. This is so comforting, to drift off to sleep with this man next to me. I’m safe here with him. Protected, cherished, and cared for.
I could get used to this. Very used to this.
****
The smell of scrambled eggs and toast greets me as I wake. I sit up, glancing around. Slade is sitting at a cart filled with food. There are two chairs, one on either side.
“How are you feeling, Chelsea?”
“Fine.”
“Come over and have something to eat. I hope you like eggs and toast.”
“Is it morning already?” I hope not.
He chuckles. “No. It’s about ten. I have weird food habits. There’s also juice and coffee, but I wasn’t sure if you drink it, especially this late.”
“I don’t drink it at night, but those eggs smell fabulous.”
“We have a chef in the building. One of the perks of living here as well as working here.”
And that answers my earlier questions. I glance around again for something to cover up with. He’s wearing a robe.
“I want you naked. Chelsea.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever eaten that way.”
He winks, and my heart melts a bit. “Another first for you tonight.”
I’m not going to get any of that food unless I do as he says, so I slide out of bed and sit across from him. “You’re quite a charmer, Slade.”
“Thank you. Help yourself. You must be hungry.”
“I’m always hungry.”
His eyes narrow. “That wasn’t a dig on your weight again, was it?”
“No. Honestly. It was only a statement.” I shove a forkful of eggs into my mouth so I don’t keep babbling and trip myself up.
“All right. I’ll take your word for it. How does it feel sitting down?”
“Not terrible. Not like I imagined it would.”
“That’s a good sign. I’m very impressed with what you were able to take. I mean that.”
“I wasn’t sure what to expect.”
“Everyone is different.”
“So, from what you said, you live here. In this building, I mean?”
“Yes. Several of us have suites on the upper floors. The rooms on this floor are private play areas that we each use from time to time.”
“It’s quiet. I can’t hear anything going on downstairs.”
“We had them designed that way.”
The food is delicious, and we eat in silence for a moment or two. There are so many questions I want to ask him, and once I’ve eaten a bit, the fog in my brain from earlier clears and I’m able to focus. But I’m not sure whether it’s all right if I ask him personal questions, so I hesitate.
“It looks like something is on your mind, Chelsea.”
I let out a short laugh. “Are you a mind reader?”
“No. You’re simply transparent.”
If I start with something innocuous, perhaps the more invasive questions won’t seem so nosy? “How long have you been a Dom?”
“Do you mean, how long have I played as one?”
“Yes. I suppose that’s what I mean.”
“About fifteen years now. I met Dakar and Asa in college. When we realized all three of us were searching for the same thing, we visited clubs. There weren’t as many then as there are now. But we kept seeking out like-minded individuals, talking to people, and learning everything we could about the lifestyle, and the needs we each had. It helped to understand we weren’t alone.”
“When did you decide to go into business together?”
“Ten years ago. Each of us worked in various clubs as Dungeon Monitors, or as Doms who top subs at the request of their Doms or Masters. We would talk often, comparing what we liked about the clubs, and what we didn’t like. So once we decided to open our own, we knew what we wanted it to look like, and what kinds of experiences we wanted to offer our members and employees.”
“No wonder this place has such a great reputation.”
“Thank you. That’s good to know.”
I’ve eaten enough, but drink more juice only because I’m not sure if I should ask the next question. It’s none of my business, and he might end up telling me so.
“Just ask it.”
“That’s unnerving.”
He grins and shrugs. “You can’t hide anything, but I like that. It makes it easier to judge how you’re doing during a scene.”
And he’s just given me the perfect segue. “That’s important in a submissive, right?”
“It is, but it’s not a deal breaker if she isn’t easily readable. It only means I have to work harder.”
“You must have a lot of practice at that by now.”
The light dances in his eyes. He knows exactly where I’m going with this, and I feel very foolish suddenly. “Yes, I do.”
I have to glance away from that piercing gaze. This man just saw right through me.
To my complete surprise, he covers my hand with his. “It’s all right.” His voice is gentle, not mocking like I had been bracing for. “I’m used to the question. No, I do not currently have a sub, a girlfriend, a wife, a fiancée, or anyone special in my life. The reason for that is complicated, but if you really want to hear it, I will tell you.”
The gratitude coursing through me makes me smile. “I would really like to hear it.”
Chapter Seven
“You might imagine it’s easy for a Dominant to find a meaningful relationship. Most women new to this lifestyle have that perception. We’re in shape, we usually have money, we’re dominant but not abusive, and we’re told we have a charismatic aura about us.”
“Guilty as charged. I’ve been thinking all of the above.”
His smile sends shivers down my spine. He really is gorgeous, and talking to him like this is so easy. Once again, my expectations have been blown out of the water.
“I had my first serious girlfriend in high school. We started dating about halfway through our senior year, and broke up a week before prom.”
“Oh, no. What happened?”
He snorts. “We had sex, the first time for both of us, and I asked if I could spank her. She freaked out.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Not even a little bit.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. If that hadn’t happened, I might have gone on like that, jumping into relationships without understanding that because of my needs, I’d better find out first whether they have any interest in the same kinds of kink. Because there is nothing sadder or more doomed from the start than a relationship where one person is a kinkster, and the other has zero interest or tolerance for it.”
“But what if you don’t know you’re like that, and you meet someone who is?”
“You’re going to discover quickly whether you’re interested, unless the one who is says nothing, or suggests nothing kinky.”
“That would be worse, it seems. Living a life you don’t want to, because you’re afraid to speak up about your needs and curiosities.”
“I completely agree, and yet people do it. But I knew from the start I didn’t want to end up that way. I understood I had to find out early in the relationship whether she had any interest in exploring this lifestyle with me.”
“Would you ever have considered a long-term relationship without this?”
He shakes his head. “Not a chance. And not because I don’t believe women who aren’t kinky aren’t worthy of love, or would make wonderful partners. But rather, because this is such a vital part of who I am, I know I couldn’t live without it in my life in some form.”
“You see, I never would have done that. I never would have asked a guy if he’d spank me, or brought up the subject of introducing anything kinky into our relationship. I had … have … no confidence to do that.”
His gaze softens, and he gives my hand a tiny squeeze. This is so normal, sitting here, sharing a meal and conversation. It strikes me I’ve forgotten all about my shyness at being stark naked in front of him.
“Chelsea, from what little you’ve told me, you had no chance to experience the development of a healthy, intimate, adult relationship, let alone had a chance to explore your kinky fantasies in one.”
This time, I’m the one clearing my throat, but not because I’m stifling a laugh. I don’t want to cry in front of him again. “No, I sure didn’t.” I also don’t want the focus on me or my pathetic past. “So, after you broke up with your high school girlfriend, did relationships become easier?”
“Are you deliberately changing the subject?”
“Yes.”
He laughs, leaning over the table to plant a quick kiss on my mouth. “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. Thank you. And, just so you know, I am not laughing at you. I’m delighted by you. Do you realize how different your body language is now from when you first walked in here?”
I shake my head, dumbfounded by his question. He’s delighted by me? Really?
“I initially worried how we’d get through even a simple spanking. You looked terrified. And now, you’re sitting there in all your naked splendor, with that intoxicating body, relaxed and comfortable. You answer questions without hesitation, and you’re blatantly honest. Chelsea, where have you been all these years?”
I might ask you the same thing. “Working. Surviving.” Intoxicating body? He said I have an intoxicating body. Heat rises up my face, but not from embarrassment. I’ve been waiting my entire adult life to hear a man say words like that.
