by Penny Wylder
“You’re beautiful, Emma.” Three soft words that came from his mouth and had me blushing like I was a teenager. Then he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear before taking me by the hand and leading me up the stairs. I don’t think I absorbed anything from the tour for the next ten minutes.
Finally, we arrive at what looks like a suite in shades of blue. There’s a four-poster bed and a huge window overlooking what must be the back of the property—rolling fields and in the distance what look to be some animals that don’t belong there. Is that a tiger? Geeze. Remind me not to go into the backyard at night.
I glance over at the bed and see that a set of lingerie has been laid out. “This is my room?” I ask him.
“It is.”
“This is beautiful!”
He laughs again. “I hope you didn’t think I was going to keep you chained up in the basement or in a cage or something.”
“No.” I promise myself it’s the only lie that I’ll tell him.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he says mildly, “sleep restraints are fun. But I don’t think that’s something that you try when you only have three days.”
I don’t get it. “Why would you restrain someone while they sleep.”
“Could be a couple of different reasons,” he says, joining me at the window. “Every person in the lifestyle does things a little differently. If it were me, I’d use wrist restraints that attach to the headboard. Of my bed.”
“But why.”
He grins, and I shiver because he looks like a wolf stalking his prey and it’s really fucking hot. “So that I would know that my sub was available for my pleasure any time I chose.”
I try to ignore the way my body heats up at the visual of being bound to the bed, ready for sex on his schedule, and I also try to ignore the way that he emphasized ‘my sub’ as if he was talking about me. “Oh.” It’s the only thing that I actually say out loud.
Matthew walks back over to my bed. “I’ve arranged for a party this afternoon, and I’d like you to wear this.” He gestures to the lingerie. “It’s a play party—where people in the lifestyle gather and have fun.”
“Sex?”
“Yes, sex.”
I swallow. I didn’t realize that I would be having sex in front of people, and not so soon.
“You will not be having sex at the party, Emma. It’s too soon for that. But you will do whatever else I require of you. The bathroom is stocked with whatever you need for make-up and showering. Please be ready by two o’clock. For now, you do not have permission to roam the house unaccompanied.”
Oh, god. “It’s starting?”
He nods, and his smile is both kind and sexy at once, an impossible combination that he somehow pulls off. “Yes, it is.” He turns to go, and then turns back. “This is your last chance. After this, I will not hold back.”
I swallow and nod. “I understand.”
He walks out of the room and closes the door, and I am left waiting with the silence inside.
* * *
It’s twelve o’clock when Matthew leaves me, and even though I know I don’t need that long to get ready, I start anyway. I take a long, luxurious shower, enjoying that it’s huge and has multiple showerheads pointing at different levels. Halfway through, I realize what those showerheads might be used for and I blush even though I’m alone.
God, the thought of sex in this shower with Matthew opens a whole new door of possibilities in my head, and I end up staying under the water for another twenty minutes just thinking about it. I seriously think about getting myself off, but then I remember that he said I’m not allowed to come. Not even now, when he’ll never know?
But he’ll know. Somehow he’ll look at me and be able to tell and I’ll get a first-hand view of what kind of punishments he thinks aren’t painful. Guilt eats me up just thinking about doing it. Instead, I quickly get out and dry myself off so I don’t have any more temptation.
He didn’t lie—there’s more than enough make-up and hair supplies in here for ten women. I kind of feel like I’m in a Sephora, complete with the specially-lit mirror that shows more about your face than you ever wanted to know. I dry my hair, and on a whim, I curl it. I don’t know if Matthew wants my hair up or down, but I like the idea of having it curled.
The memory of his hand in my hair on the dance floor rises. My hair was curled then too, and I have to say that I wouldn’t mind another kiss like that. When my hair is finished, I do my make-up. He didn’t leave me any instructions, so I don’t do it heavily. I’m not sure what’s going to happen today, but what’s for sure is that I don’t want to end the day looking like a raccoon from either sweat or tears or both.
Finally, the lingerie. It’s a corset that’s loose enough so I can slip it on, but I’m going to need help tightening it. With it is a little lacy skirt over a thong, the whole set made of a shimmery blue satin that works perfectly with my skin and hair. With a start I realize that he probably had this made specifically for me. No way did he just go pick up something that fit perfectly and suited me so well. I’ll have to ask him where he gets custom lingerie for future reference.
By the time I’m ready, I still have a few minutes left, so I explore the room. There’s a bookshelf filled with everything from poetry to some erotic novels, a desk filled with pens and stationary, and an armoire that opens to reveal an entertainment center. It’s basically like the best hotel room ever. Plus, the view really is beautiful. Most people don’t realize Georgia is one of the most beautiful places you could ever go, but it is. Rolling green hills and huge swaths of land that are untouched. I’m lucky that I didn’t have to move from this state to find a job and that I get to stay here.
There’s an overstuffed armchair near the window and bookshelf, and I pull down a novel that sounds interesting and read it until two. I lose myself in the first few pages and I don’t even hear him approaching until Matthew is opening the door.
He smiles when he sees me curled up in the chair. “You look beautiful.”
“You haven’t even seen me standing yet.”
Standing by the chair, he looks impossibly tall. He’s changed as well, darker slacks and a shirt that matches my outfit. “Then stand up and show me,” he says, and his tone has that resonant edge that makes me put down the book and stand without hesitation. The corset almost falls down because it’s so loose, and I catch it.
“Put your hands on the bedpost and I’ll lace you up. You’ll need to hold on.”
I do, and I feel a little breathless even before he starts pulling on the laces, because the way his eyes are tracking me is sending heat straight through me. I don’t remember the last time I was the center of such focus. It’s…intoxicating.
He begins at the bottom near my waist, fingers brushing skin as he grabs the laces and pulls. It’s already tighter than I expected and it’s only the first tug. “No wonder women hated these.”
Behind me, Matthew chuckles, and his breath tickles my neck. I shiver. “They didn’t, actually. The stories about women becoming obsessed with their figures enough to remove ribs are just stories. Corsets were widely regarded as an aid to health and beauty.”
“How do you know that?”
“I majored in history in college, and being a Dom, I did research on the subject.”
“Oh.” My breath is stolen from me as he pulls another string tight.
And another. “If you were to wear this every day, your body would adjust and it wouldn’t feel nearly as constrictive. It would seem normal.”
“Yeah…” I say, trying to catch my breath. “Normal.”
He laces a few more stays in silence, and then, “Did you make yourself come in the shower?”
The question stops me in my tracks. “I wanted to.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No.”
“No?”
The expectant silence after that word tells me what he wants. “No, Sir.”
His lips brush my bare shoulder, sendi
ng goosebumps across my skin. “Good girl.”
An unexpected burst of happiness flies up through my chest, the validation that I made the right choice there. He definitely would have known. Or I would have had to lie, which I think would have been worse.
He’s laced more than halfway up my back now, and it’s getting harder to breathe. I tell him that.
“I know.” I bite back the sarcastic retort that’s on my lips, and he chuckles as if he knows I’m on the edge of cursing him out. “I chose a corset today for a reason.”
“You lied and you actually are a sadist?”
“No. I chose it because a corset is an excellent metaphor for a Dom/sub relationship.”
I gasp as he yanks the next string, and he’s right, I do have to hold onto the post. “Oh?”
“You’re letting me lace you into this. It’s not something you would choose for yourself, but you’re submitting to the fact that I want you in this. I’m choosing how tight to lace it, and you’re trusting that I won’t hurt you by lacing it too tightly. And once you’re wearing it,” he punctuates his words by pulling it tight, “I may not always be by your side, I may not always be giving you a command, but you’ll feel my control. It is a physical reminder of your submission to me.”
Those last words are a whisper as his hand slides around the corset and across my stomach. I might as well be naked, the way that hand feels, the heat of it sinking straight through the silk and down to my skin. I’d never thought of a corset like that—of course I hadn’t, because I’m not submissive. But he’s not wrong.
We finish lacing the corset in heated silence, and I can’t stop thinking about how with every tightening lace he has more control. And for this brief moment, I don’t hate it. He finishes. “Walk around the room for a couple of minutes, let your body get used to it.”
I walk in circles, trying to take full breaths and unable to. While I’m walking, Matthew goes to a second armoire where I see more lingerie, and he retrieves something out of a drawer. On my next circle he stops me. “Hands, please.”
My wrists are out in front of me before I can think, and he’s wrapping leather cuffs around my wrists. There’s fleece on the inside, and they’re more comfortable than I would have thought. “Why these?”
“We’ll be in a room full of people, both Doms and subs. These identify you as a submissive.” I open my mouth to protest, but he continues. “For today, and in this context, you are. And this,” he says stepping behind me and placing a thin black collar around my neck, “makes sure that no one will touch you without my permission.”
My heart starts to pound. “You’re going to let someone else touch me?”
“I have that right,” he says mildly. “But I won’t be doing that today, no.”
The choker isn’t so tight I can’t breathe, but it’s tight enough that I’m very aware of it. I’m sure that’s intentional.
“Can you breathe a little better now?”
I suck in a breath, and I find that I can. “Yes.”
“Perfect,” he says with a wicked grin. “Time to tighten it more.”
Eight
Matthew is merciless with the corset, and yet somehow my body still adjusts as he has me walk around the room. He pulls me over to face the mirror in the armoire door and my breath catches. I look…sexy. I’ve always had what I thought was a perfectly average body, and the way the corset reshapes it gives me that hourglass look that every girl dreams of having. “Wow.”
“Indeed,” he says. “Now, the party is already in progress, so we should get downstairs.”
“What will I be doing?”
He turns to me. “You don’t need to worry about that. I will tell you what is expected of you and when. That’s part of being a submissive—trusting your master to make all the decisions in your best interest. And since this is most definitely a sexual situation, you will address me properly for the rest of the afternoon.”
I flick my eyes down to the carpet so he doesn’t see how having to call him Sir grates on me. And like hell am I ever calling him Master. “Yes, Sir.”
He touches me on the head. “Good girl. You may walk behind me.”
I’m led through the house, and outside of the bedroom it suddenly occurs to me how ridiculous I must look. Getting dressed up in lingerie in a bedroom is one thing. Parading around a mansion in it is something you only see in music videos. I almost feel like pinching myself, because this can’t possibly be real life.
We walk down a hallway that he didn’t show me on the house tour earlier, to a thick door that almost looks like a vault. He opens it, and I hear the slight whoosh that accompanies soundproof rooms. But that’s nothing, because the room in front of me is huge, and full of people having sex. Kinky people having sex. I take a step back and find myself pressed against Matthew. His hand lands on my shoulder, erasing any ideas that I could turn and walk the other way.
There are a lot more people than I expected. The room is a big rectangle, and it’s filled with equipment I’ve never seen before. The walls are a warm, nutty brown and there’s thick carpet under my feet. Despite the equipment, the room has an air of comfort, especially with the sunlight pouring through big west-facing windows. But the thing that draws my eye the most are the people. Matthew did warn me that this was a party for Doms and subs, and it’s so much stranger than I imagined.
I see Jenny and Chris curled into an armchair together. There’s a scream of an orgasm from the far corner, and the sounds of flesh slapping together. I try not to look. You don’t watch other people having sex. Matthew guides me over to a small bar where there’s a tray of champagne flutes, already full. “You’re going to greet our guests. Offer the champagne only to the Doms. I’ll be waiting here for you.”
He wants me to serve champagne? Seriously? I look at him to see if he’ll crack, to see if he’s joking, but he only looks at me expectantly. I feel blood rise to my cheeks thinking about what I saw, and what I might have to interrupt. “What if…what if they’re busy.”
He smiles, amused. “Then you will wait patiently, and watch until they aren’t busy anymore.”
My blush returns in full force, and I pick up the tray carefully, the glasses tinkling because I’m shaking and nervous and still a bit short of breath from the corset. I glance around the room, and make a decision to go clockwise—better than just picking at random.
The first couple I come across is a man and a woman, the woman completely naked and draped across the man’s lap. Her ass is red and I can see very defined handprints on her skin. But she looks, peaceful…almost blissful as he strokes her head. What is she feeling that she can be that happy after being hit like that? I extend the tray towards the man. “Champagne?” I can almost hear Matthew clearing his throat behind me. “Sir?”
“Of course,” he says, taking a glass. “Thank you.”
I move on, ignoring the tenderness I saw on his face as he looked back towards his sub. I serve a woman who’s in an armchair, legs perched on the edges while a young man licks into her pussy like it’s his last meal. The glazed look in her eyes as she accepts the champagne tells me that he’s doing a good job.
There’s a woman bound and gagged while her Dom alternately fucks her and drops blows across her skin with a flogger. The sounds she’s making don’t change—they all sound like she’s in the midst of the best sex of her life.
Every couple is like that, and I’m wondering if that’s what Matthew wanted me to see. I’m wondering if this is his attempt at making me think that all this is normal. There’s another orgasmic scream, and I look up at my next guest, and can’t keep my jaw from dropping. I couldn’t see before with all the other couples and equipment in the way, but there’s a woman strapped to a big wooden X.
She’s completely naked, wrists and ankles wrapped in cuffs just like mine, and they’re attached to the wood. There’s a thump on the floor as her Dom, a man in leather pants and without a shirt, drops the vibrator that he had been using on her. She’s
writhing against the wood and I can’t tell if she’s trying to get free or if she’s still in the throes of her orgasm. I’m about to offer him some champagne when he unties his pants and lets his cock spring free.
I instinctually look away, and I feel the burning of the flush that’s covering what feels like my entire body. I realize I’m looking towards Matthew and he smiles a slow, lazy smiles and nods back towards the couple. He told me that if they were busy I was supposed to wait and watch until they were free. I swallow and look back just in time for him to step up to the X and slip inside her. She moans, and I watch as he begins to fuck her. I watch her face, and even though she doesn’t have a choice, she looks okay. She looks more than okay, she looks rapturous.
I imagine myself in her place, and suddenly I can’t stop. I think about what it would be like to be in that position, completely vulnerable, and not just anyone, but Matthew the one holding me captive. I’m suddenly wet and aware that the outfit that I’m wearing is not enough to hide it to anyone in the room. The man slams into her, again and again, and I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. It doesn’t look she’s trapped at all, and seconds later she’s begging the man for permission to come. He doesn’t give it, and she’s writhing on him as he continues to fuck her.
Finally, she asks again and he growls a yes that ends with another orgasmic scream. I don’t watch porn often, but if it affects me this much, maybe I should. I’m almost dripping, and I’m tempted to tell Matthew that I’m ready for the sex part of this to start. But I know that it won’t happen if I don’t stay here and finish the task he’s given me.
The man finishes and immediately sets to work unstrapping his sub. She slips limply into his arms and he gathers her in a blanket, settling into a nearby chair. It’s not until he glances up towards me that I dare walk forward. He gives me an appreciative glance up and down. “Who do you belong to?”
