by Vivian Wood
His phone vibrated again. Harper’s name filled the screen. “Wyd?” she’d texted.
Sean drew in his breath. Should I ask her? His hesitation was brief. “Just got invited to a party,” he replied. “Interested?”
“Sure!” she replied. “House party?”
“At Miss Mary’s,” he replied. Would she know what that was?
His phone was quiet for a minute, then the ellipses appeared. “I Googled it,” she said.
Silence. His thumb hovered over the keyboard.
“I’m down,” she added.
Well. That was interesting. “Pick you up at nine,” he said.
“Ashton, this is about to get interesting,” he told his friend. “I’ll see you soon, okay, bud?” he said as he got up to leave.
As he walked towards the door, his phone vibrated again. “Is it okay if I don’t do anything with anyone else there?” Harper asked.
He stopped in the door. That was a twist. Sure, he’d expected her to refuse to go at all. But this? Was this her way of asking to be exclusive?
“Of course,” he replied.
On the way to the car, he loosened the reins of his imagination. How hot would she look in wrist spreaders? Unable to use much of her upper body, her arms even paler as the blood rushed to her torso?
He pulled up memories of Miss Mary’s from his last time there, months ago. One of the semi-private backrooms had a circular bed with vinyl black sheets and steel hoops every two feet. How would she look naked, spread eagle and bound? She’d writhe in frustration, desperate for him to make the first move.
Sean sat in the car and ran over the possibilities. He could see her in a hand catch, her breasts forced forward while she sat on his cock, faced away towards a crowd. He’d tease her clit while she let her head drop back and begged for more. Sean thought about the crowd that would gather, how the men would get themselves off and wish they were him. The women who would beg his permission to lick and suck her nipples.
Or there was the possibility of Harper in a Karada, the thick brown rope outlining her breasts. The lightning harness in the back with the rope threaded up her ass. He was hard as hell—and didn’t have a clue what kind of supplies he had at home.
He raced towards Hollywood, uncomfortable with the engorgement between his legs. But he was getting kind of used to it. It seemed he was always hard around her.
Sean took the stairs up to his apartment, two by two. He dug through one of the unpacked boxes. There wasn’t much he could use. Some old camping rope that wasn’t nearly good enough for Harper’s perfect skin. Some old lube that he’d used solely to get himself off to old Peter Acworth films.
“Fuck,” he said as he surveyed the meager find.
Luckily, he lived in Hollywood. There were kink and leather stores on every corner. Sean headed back downstairs while he Googled nearby shops. One was just half a mile away.
He circled the block to avoid passing Mission Hells. The last thing he needed was Josh to see him and try to get him to cover a shift.
As Sean followed the directions, he pulled up Harper’s number again on a whim. “Wear a black dress,” he texted. No questions, no requests. Let’s see if she’ll take the command like a real submissive.
If she doesn’t, he’ll have to shut the attraction down. But what if she does?
He memorized the directions on the GPS and put the phone on airplane mode. No matter what her response, she could wait. He didn’t want to even be tempted to engage in a conversation with her.
At the shop, the young, slender boy who worked the counter smiled at him. “Can I help you find something?” he asked.
“Sisal ropes, knotted ends if you have them. Water-based lube, alligator—actually, no, nipple trainers—and a leather paddle. Actually, show me where your gags are, too.”
“A man who knows what he wants,” the clerk said. “You’re going to make my job easy.”
The boy didn’t seem old enough to be out of high school, but he knew his stuff. “Ropes, knotted, here you go,” he said. “We have a ton of water-based lube, so it depends on what you’re after. Scented and flavored, over here—”
“Right now, no, just regular,” Sean said. “And one in travel-sized.”
“Gotcha, I’d recommend these,” the boy said, and grabbed two bottles. “Nipple play is over here. Trainers, you said? Are they pierced?”
“I … I don’t know, actually. Let’s assume no.”
“Okay, it doesn’t really matter,” the boy said. “Here, UberKinky makes good trainers. These were made to be used on pierced nipples, but if they’re not, it makes no difference. Better safe than sorry in case they are, though. Adjustable, fully stainless and body safe,” he added. “Okay, and paddles. This way.”
He brought him to a wall covered in scores of options. “Damn,” Sean said. “Quite the selection.”
“Yeah,” the boy said with a chuckle. “Our customers like variety! Starter paddle?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, and you said leather. Here, check this out,” the boy said. He picked up a black paddle that looked like it could be used with ping pong. “It doesn’t look like much, I know, but that’s kind of the point. For the recipient,” he added. “The surface area slows for a little less pain when in training. You can then graduate to thinner whips for more sting.”
Sean was a little disappointed, but knew this was something to ease into. There was no telling if Harper had experimented at all, but if this was going to happen he couldn’t just go right to the hard kink.
“What I like about this paddle, and the Gentle Persuasions brand in general, is that it’s double-sided. A lot of their products are,” the boy said. “You have your classic leather on one side, and then there’s this faux fur on the opposite side. See?” he asked. He was all professional, like he was trying to sell the latest Tupperware to Sean.
Sean took the paddle and examined it. It did have nice juxtaposition on either side.
“So, you can start with the furry side, then switch to the leather. Or back and forth,” the boy said with a shrug.
“Sounds good,” Sean said. “I’ll get it.”
“Great, I’ll ring you up. By the way, we have an ATM here if you want it. It’ll come up as American Allegiance Bank on receipts and statements.”
“That’s alright, it doesn’t matter,” Sean said. “Besides, I have cash.”
“Okay, cool.” The boy put the toys in a non-descript black bag. “Enjoy!” he called out as Sean walked back into the bright California sunshine.
13
Harper
She tugged at the hem of her dress as she gazed into the hallway mirror.
“Damn girl, you getting’ some tonight!” Molly said as she squeezed past.
“Right,” Harper said. Damn P and his ridiculous designs. It’s like he doesn’t realize women have an ass and hips to cover.
The black latex dress she’d borrowed from P’s “works in progress” definitely fit right into a sex club. Or, at least, I think it does. It was skin tight and featured a seriously low-cut neckline that mimicked J. Lo’s iconic dress. The sleeves were a sheer lace. “Easy ripping. But don’t you dare,” P had warned. He’d then leaned back and sighed in contentment at his creation. “If you were a man, I’d definitely bang the shit out of you.”
Harper paced back and forth, anxious for Sean to arrive. She didn’t trust herself to sit down. She needed to practice in those sky-high red leather stilettos covered in studs.
“He’s here!” Molly sang as a knock rang through the house. Harper grabbed her purse and headed for the door—just in time for Molly to swing it open.
She nearly fell over herself when she saw him. His black hair had been expertly combed back. He was in a perfectly tailored tuxedo with a crisp black shirt and bow tie. “You … you … I’m not dressed right,” she finally stammered. She was incredibly aware and embarrassed of the getup P has insisted she wear. Holy shit, you look fucking edible, she
thought.
He didn’t reply immediately, but his expression reassured her. Sean’s eyes drank her in, from her long bare legs to the corset-inspired center of the dress. “You look fantastic,” he said.
She swallowed. “So … so do you,” she said.
Molly fanned herself. “I’ll leave you two alone before I ask to be the guest star,” she said.
This time, when he offered his arm, she took it quickly. Even though she’d been paid to walk in ridiculous heels for nearly a decade, there was something different about these. The power they infused her with was almost addictive.
Sean helped her into the car. Her well-practiced maneuver of getting into low-slung vehicles in the shortest of dresses paid off. As she leaned her right knee sharply into her left, Sean licked his lips as he eyed her thighs.
She played nervously with the strap of her purse on the way over. “Scared?” he asked.
“No,” she said, too quickly. “Just … kind of nervous, I guess. I’ve never been anywhere like this.”
“Don’t be,” he said. He reached over and squeezed her thigh. All he has to do is slide it up a few inches, she thought. Suddenly, she wished she’d gone commando like P had requested instead of insisting on a little black thong.
They pulled up to a house Harper must have passed a hundred times. But she’d never seen it like this. There were no obvious signs, but a makeshift valet service had been set up. The young boys who parked the cars wore leather chaps. Some had on collars while others sported black police caps. Even though security was clearly tight and loitering outside was obviously not allowed, it was obvious this was a party.
One of the valet boys opened her door and helped her out while another raced to Sean’s side for the keys. “This is a club?” she asked. “It looks like a house.”
Sean smiled at her. “That’s the point.” He escorted her past the stately façade of the house to where a large Latino man hovered near the door.
“Good evening,” the giant of a man said.
“It is, though I hear it’s supposed to rain later tonight.”
“It never rains in California,” the man said as he opened the door for them.
“Was that some kind of code?” Harper whispered as they stepped inside, but Sean brushed off the question.
Inside, at the end of the grand foyer with the stained glass skylight that looked like it belonged in a cathedral, Sean parted the heavy leather curtains. The belly of the house was dark and sumptuous. Rock music soared through the air. A naked woman painted gold immediately approached with a tray of champagne. “Thirsty?” she asked in a throaty voice.
Sean took two glasses while Harper turned pink and tried not to stare at the girl’s perfect breasts. “They’re fake,” Sean whispered to her.
“Yeah, well, obviously.” That didn’t make them less perfect.
Harper looked around. There were beds everywhere and couches scattered around the rooms. On one loveseat, a woman was taking it doggy-style from a man in a leather mask while she ate out a stunning blonde. A full-blown orgy was underway on one of the beds while a circle of onlookers surrounded them.
She felt Sean’s arm around her shoulders as he drew her to him. “Just say the word and I’ll take you home,” he said.
“I’m fine.”
He escorted her to the next room. It used to be a formal dining room, but now the fifteen-foot long table was draped in black vinyl. A man with a chiseled chest had a curvy woman bent over the table. He pulled her hair taut and whipped her ass with a short whip every time he entered her. Three people perched at the opposite end of the table where they kissed, groped and moaned in unison.
“This way,” Sean said. He took her to a back room which was staged with red lights and an artful bondage show took place on a small stage. A rather shy, nerdy-looking man with thick glasses was on the stage. He demonstrated an erotic rope binding technique on a young red-headed girl. “Kinbaku,” Sean said into her ear.
“What?”
“Erotic Japanese rope binding,” he explained.
“Oh.” Several people had gathered and were watching intently. Harper saw one woman slowly circle her hard, exposed nipples but most looked on studiously. As if there would be a test later.
“Look,” Sean whispered. “See that couple over there?” he nodded discreetly towards a burly man on the sidelines. Next to him was a slender girl with dyed purple hair. She wore a thick dog collar with a heavy chain. Harper’s eyes followed the chain all the way to the man’s hand. He had it wrapped around his fist tightly.
“Yeah,” she said.
“And there,” he said, as he gestured to the couple to their left. An older, gorgeous woman with waist-length hair cocked her head as she watched the show. A boy half her age stood dutifully by her side with his eyes downcast.
“What about them?” she asked.
“You see how some are obviously dominants? And some are subs?” he asked.
“You mean the collar?”
“Not just that,” he said. “But, yes, partially. It’s in how they interact.”
She looked closer at the couples around them. A girl with a smattering of moles on her face was pressed close to a man in a leather vest. She kept her lips perpetually parted and her legs just a little bit too far apart.
“Down,” the older woman next to Harper suddenly said, and immediately the boy she was with dropped to all fours. She sat on him lightly, as if he were an ottoman. “That’s good,” she cooed to him softly, and ran her fingers through his hair.
“Oh, my God,” Harper said. Her eyes widened. It was clear there were several “doms” of both genders here. She looked to Sean, but he seemed enraptured by what happened on stage.
“Come,” he said. “A booth opened up.”
Closer to the stage a booth lined in velvet waited. “Now let’s take a look at Sakasa ebi shibari, or reverse shrimp binding,” the man on stage said. He sounded like any professor at a university. “It’s often confused with the basic hog tie, but it’s much more intricate than that. You might also hear it called gyaku ebi. On your stomach, please,” he instructed his model.
“What’s your pleasure?” A waiter, nude except for the tiniest of G-strings, appeared at their table. He set two fresh champagne glasses down for them.
“That will be all,” Sean said.
Harper was embarrassed when the waiter caught her as she looked at his bulge. What else am I supposed to look at?
Nervous, she reached for the champagne, but Sean pulled it away from her. “You’ll need to be able to consent, soberly, later,” he said.
She blushed even harder, but tried to relax into the plush velvet.
The reverse shrimp tie looked beyond intricate. It was goddamned impossibly complicated. The warmth of the first, and only, glass of champagne wore off as she watched. Harper was hyper aware of how close Sean sat to her.
His arm, which had rested on the seat back, dropped and he began to stroke her back. As she watched the show, even the innocent brush of his fingertips became erotic.
Though the backs were velvet, they sat on red vinyl seats. The skirt was so short, and her thong so tiny, that she could feel a wetness began to spread below her thighs. She reached for Sean’s thigh and rested her hand on it.
He jumped, though her tough was light. He removed her hand, softly but brusquely. “You have to ask very, very nicely if you want to touch me,” he said. It wasn’t quite a warning, but almost.
“You mean … like all the time?” she asked, confused. She’d certainly touched him before.
“Just tonight. While we’re in this space.”
She looked at his face, at the jaw line that looked as though it had been hand-carved to perfection. A spray of a five o’clock shadow was highlighted in the red lights. “Can I touch you?” she asked.
“No. Not yet,” he said, and returned his attention to the stage.
Still, he continued to stroke her back. She shifted, frustrated and more turned o
n than ever. That easy display of power, especially how easily he controlled her with it, was nearly unbearable.
She shifted again. Sean got up swiftly and motioned for her to do the same.
When she squeezed out of the booth, he held her close. For a moment, he stopped and stared down at the seat until she did the same. She was embarrassed to see the evidence of her desire on the slick seat. When he was sure she’d seen, he directed her towards the door.
Sean steered her through several rooms. In one, a confessional, erotic poetry recital took place. Next, there was a roped-off section in a room. The sign said WOMEN ONLY, MEN CAN WATCH. Harper stared at the throngs of girls piled on top of each other. In the next room, flogging demonstrations were punctuated with audience members as they followed along.
Finally, they arrived at a staircase. “Do you want to go upstairs? Or keep exploring?” Sean asked her.
She looked up the winding spiral staircase to the depths of darkness above. “Upstairs,” she said.
Did he look indecisive for a moment? She couldn’t be certain because, swiftly, he started to pull her up the stairs.
14
Sean
He was torn as he led her upstairs. Dim sconces lit the way. On one hand, he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone. The way she obeyed despite the sparks of fear and unknowing in her eyes was irresistible. God, she’s going to make the perfect submissive, he thought.
On the other hand, with every step they took closer to the bedroom, it might be one step closer to the end. He’d had his share of infatuated women before. They thought his brooding was a façade, another easy project they could fix. He’d never brought any of them as close to his real self as he did Harper, but he knew what could easily be around the corner. Disgust, genuine terror, when she found out who he really was.
Nobody could actually fall in love with you, he reminded himself. Lust, sure. But love? There’s no way. Hell, just ask Ashton.
