by Ann Jacobs
The difference now was that he wasn’t wearing a collar or a leash clipped to a ring in his dick, and that now he was the one in control of his pleasure—and Deidre’s.
More eager than he’d been since the night his former mistress had collared him in a club scene so long ago, Les slipped the leather executioner’s hood that he always wore to play over his head. As always he had to fiddle with it so he could see at least a little bit through the slits in front before tightening the drawstring. For the first time since he’d begun playing in the Neon Lasso, where more than a few members were likely to become his patients at some point, Les wished he didn’t need to hide his identity, denying himself of the use of most of his senses in the process.
Fuck it. He began to loosen the hood but then he remembered. Once he was in the private playroom he could take the thing off, enjoy all the sensory pleasures he’d been denying himself when he’d played in front of a crowd. He strode through the public playroom to the stairs, straining to see where he was going.
In the small anteroom to the private dungeon where he’d find his prize, he loosened the hood and drew it over his head. Dispassionately he looked over the implements on a long, narrow table but decided to forgo using toys—after all, this would be Deidre’s first club play.
He hoped she didn’t expect him to hurt her the way some subs did. In addition to the fact that deliberately causing someone pain went against all his medical training as well as his instincts, Les had been on the receiving end of too much physical abuse when he’d been Jessica’s sex toy. His way of dominating was more psychological than physical—more mind-control than brute force.
He strode into the playroom and placed the condoms he’d brought with him on a stainless steel table by the narrow fucking bed that had always reminded him of a GYN exam table complete with stirrups as well as some other restraints that would scare most vanilla women out of their doctors’ offices.
Oh God. He nearly came when he saw Deidre kneeling beside the St. Andrew’s Cross against the wall. She lowered her gaze as soon as she recognized him, but not fast enough for him to miss her staring wide-eyed at his crotch and licking her lips as though she couldn’t wait to taste him. Novice or not, she knew exactly how to make a cock stand up and pay attention.
His was twitching already and he hadn’t even touched her yet.
She’d pulled her long blonde hair up in a high ponytail and secured it with a red vinyl clasp that reminded him of a tiny slave collar, and she was clad from neck to ankles in a skintight red latex bodysuit with cutouts that bared her nipples, pussy and ass. It closed with a large, visible zipper whose silver tab hovered in the hollow of her throat, a silent invitation for him to strip her bare if that was his desire.
He liked the way she’d wrapped herself for him, even though he’d never considered that he might be a rubber fetishist. He liked the outfit a lot, but then he’d have liked her just as well in silky lingerie and stiletto heels. Or in that silly SpongeBob nightshirt she’d worn that night in Dallas—or nothing at all.
Stopping directly in front of her, he grasped her ponytail, loving the way the pale silky strands flowed over his fingers, a welcoming caress. “I want you to kiss me, chéri.”
Les had given her an order, gently spoken yet as compelling as if he’d told her roughly to suck his cock. Deidre licked her lips. “Yes, Master,” she said, then she leaned forward, braced her hands on his muscular thighs and took his rigid cock head in her mouth. He tasted clean and a little bit salty…delicious enough that she could keep on sucking him all night long.
What had ever made her doubt he was a sexual dominant? He’d never looked the part before tonight, of course, but then this was the first time she’d seen him in a club, his hard lean body enhanced by the leather harness the way it was tonight. His impressive cock and balls jutted straight out from the silver cock ring that held the torso harness in place.
None of the other Doms she’d glimpsed in the playroom downstairs had possessed a body as hot as his, one worthy of showcasing in nothing but thin strips of crisscrossed leather held together with O-rings and buckles—and the thick ring that emphasized the size and strength of his jutting erection, the luscious fullness of his smooth, pink scrotum.
Just looking at that huge, throbbing phallus made her cunt clench with anticipation. The moment she’d seen it her inner muscles had spasmed and she’d grown wet. Her nipples puckered and tingled. She couldn’t help licking her lips when she noticed the translucent drop of lubrication already wetting his deep, prominent slit.
The silver fasteners on his harness caught rays from multicolored floodlights that flashed around the small dungeon in ever-changing patterns of brilliant gold, red and purple, enhancing the otherworldly setting. The visual feast enhanced her arousal as much as the bold brass and heavy percussion rhythm blaring from the old-fashioned jukebox she’d noticed when Candy had led her through the downstairs playroom.
The Neon Lasso, much smaller than Club Rio Brava where she’d observed BDSM play in San Antonio last summer, oozed a little less class but a lot more sexual sensation. She imagined she felt the aura more keenly now because she’d been an observer then, not a participant.
She’d noticed a stage downstairs, much like the one in San Antonio where she’d observed part of a highly erotic scene that had involved not only a Dom and his slave but also two other males. It had been too much. Embarrassed, she had turned away and buried her face against the shoulder of the date who’d taken her there.
I wonder if Les will take me onstage someday, put us both on display for eager eyes to see.
She didn’t know if the prospect of exhibiting her submission for everyone to see frightened her…or made her wet with anticipation.
I think maybe I’d like letting everybody know Les is my master.
Tonight, Deidre had been relieved when she’d realized he’d booked a private dungeon for them to play. But soon…
Fuck, she was no virgin. Not even close. Surely she’d soon lose the almost-virgin nerves that had surfaced when they’d walked through the door and be ready to service her master anytime, anyplace. They could be alone like this in their own private play world—or the center of attention among a crowd of eager voyeurs downstairs. It wouldn’t matter.
For now, though, she was grateful to be here alone with him, sucking his magnificent cock. Other than her mouth surrounding his flesh and his strong fingers tangled in her ponytail, the only places they touched were where her palms rested on his thighs.
Having his pulsating flesh in her mouth and tasting his slick, salty lubrication on her tongue focused her attention on her master alone. Only the flashing strobe lights and the beat of the muffled music coming from the downstairs playroom reminded her that they were in a club and she was submitting to his command.
Deidre had no doubt when he tugged at her hair and ordered her hoarsely to swallow his cock that Les was the Dom he claimed to be, despite the fact that he’d uttered only one command and had so far used none of the BDSM equipment at his disposal.
His cock was all she needed. Her pussy clenched. Would he lock her legs to the stirrups at the corners of that fucking bed, strap her down and ram his cock into her as though it were a battering ram? Or would he immobilize her on the cross behind her and administer sensual torture until she begged for release, the way she’d seen a writhing sub beg her master that night at Club Rio Brava?
When Les slid his fingers out of her hair she felt deserted—until he used both hands to cup her cheeks, encouraging her with light pressure to deep throat him. His heated groans let her know she was pleasing him.
Pleasing him made her happy even though every cell in her body was screaming for release.
The music stopped momentarily, only to be replaced by a less frenetic, more erotic instrumental that began with an intro of mellow woodwinds and built slowly to a crescendo trumpeting a mood of brass-bold expectation. Deep-pitched, mellow drums beat out a cadence that made Les think of f
ucking slow and deep.
The show downstairs was apparently about to start.
In case something about the scene about to be projected on the screen disturbed Deidre as Buck had indicated it might, Les wanted to have her under his control yet not restrained by shackles. He lifted her off his straining cock and spoke, keeping his expression stern, his tone commanding. “Get up now and go sit on the bed. I want to fuck you until we’re both too tired to move, and I want to start while we watch the show.”
The eagerness with which she scrambled to do his bidding reminded him that she was new to the BDSM scene, not yet confident enough to play coy or even make a token protest at losing contact with her master’s flesh.
That first night in Dallas she had come across as sexually aware, sensually advanced—uninhibited and skilled at giving pleasure for one so young, yet somehow, inexplicably, innocent. Her play so far tonight confirmed that while she had observed club play, she was a novice at the actual behavior of experienced subs that he had learned on his knees while trying to punish himself by becoming the sex slave Jessica had wanted.
He stood by the narrow fucking bed and looked down at her, practically overwhelmed by the needy look in her eyes when she met his gaze.
“Will you please fuck me, Master?”
“Slaves don’t speak without permission, but I’ll let you get by this time since club play is so new to you.” Though he tried to sound stern he couldn’t withstand the pleading expression on her gorgeous face. “Yes, I want to fuck you, but I also want us to watch the show. Buck mentioned that you used to have a thing for Jack Duval. He and his wife are playing onstage tonight.” He lay beside her, savoring the cool, slick feel of her latex bodysuit, the heat of her exposed nipples now almost as hard as his dick.
“Oh.” She didn’t sound enthusiastic. “May I tell you something? It’s a little more of what I said I’d tell you later.”
Les braced himself to be compared with the lawyer whose skills were as well-honed and hardcore as those of any Dom he’d ever observed in a Houston club. He tweaked one taut nipple, then the other. “Go ahead, chéri, but remember I may punish you if I don’t like what you say.”
Deidre snuggled up to him as though she needed the closeness, a reminder that for tonight at least he was her master. She rested her head on his shoulder and lowered her gaze the way a good sub would, only in her case he sensed that she needed to cloak her words in anonymity.
“Jack is my half-brother. Buck was right. I had a huge crush on him until I found out last spring that Four is his father too.”
Jesus, he hadn’t expected to hear anything like that. It must have torn her up inside, learning she’d been fucking a blood relative. “It’s okay, baby,” he whispered when he felt her trembling like a leaf being battered in the wind. He imagined Duval must have eaten her alive, as young and impressionable as she seemed to be even now.
“It’s not like that.” She looked up at him, her beautiful eyes awash with tears. “I never succeeded in seducing him even though I tried awfully hard. I’m okay with him and Liz being married, truly I am.”
Les figured the blood relationship between them explained why Karen and Bye never played with Jack and his bride, even though he had seen both couples perform onstage with nearly every other member of the club. “I didn’t think—”
She laid her hand over his lips. “Yes you did, but it’s all right. I certainly tried hard enough to get him into my bed. You mustn’t ever tell anybody what I just told you, though.”
“You mean nobody around here knows you and Duval are related?”
“Just Jack and his mother, and all of us Cadens, of course, since she decided to spring the news on Bye and me the day of our mother’s funeral. I know Bye told Karen, and I assume that Jack would have told Liz before they got married. Now you know too.”
Les raised his upper body and looked down at Deidre, not certain whether they should stay and watch the show or get the hell out and go spend the rest of the night at his place in Caden. “I won’t say a word. Do you want to stay and watch the show? Jack and Liz always put on performances that get everybody in a fever.”
He didn’t bother to mention that Jack’s scenes were almost all ménages, usually with more than one extra player. Now that he knew that Duval had hurt Deidre he relished the idea of watching the man take another Dom’s dick up the ass, which had been a featured part of the last Duval scene he’d watched. “How about it? Want to see what you missed out on?”
“Okay.” She didn’t sound too sure but then she reached down and took Les’ hard-on in her hand. “I’d like to feel your cock in my pussy. Please, Master,” she added after a short pause and a questioning glance at his face, as though she’d just realized she’d overstepped the boundaries and invited his wrath.
He moved over, knelt and leaned back against the wall. “Come here, then. Bring your sweet little pussy up here so I can fuck you doggy style.” That way they could both watch the show and he could play with her sensitive nipples while they made love.
I must be pretty far gone, Les thought as he grasped Deidre’s butt until her cunt made contact with his dick. Doms fuck in clubs, they don’t make love. Every time he sank into her welcoming heat, though, it felt an awful lot like lovemaking. Right now he wanted to feel like a Dom, not Deidre’s vanilla lover.
“Stay right there, chéri.” Reaching onto the table, he grabbed a condom, ripped it open and protected her before sinking again inside her hot, wet cunt. He used his hands on her hips to guide her and control her motion.
Jack’s scene tonight began when he came onstage and found Liz with her legs spread for a male sub who was lapping her pussy with great enthusiasm. Pretending to be an outraged master, he administered a flogging to them both. Les couldn’t help trembling a little when Jack tossed away the flogger and rammed his cock up the male sub’s helpless, reddened ass.
Deidre stiffened as if she were the one being ass-fucked. “Omigod.”
“It’s okay, baby.” It wasn’t, though, because Deidre started to tremble and her body quit moving in response to his thrusts.
He pulled out of her and sat, spreading his legs to give her room. “Turn around and look at me. Forget what you saw onscreen.”
“Please Master, I need you inside me.”
“Easy, chéri,” he said, helping her position her legs outside his hips before impaling her again. “Relax. Just close your eyes and concentrate on how it feels to have me inside you.”
“Yes, Master, please fuck me hard.” She didn’t have to say it for him to know she needed him to eradicate the memory of the scene she’d just witnessed at his command.
She held him tight, her arms twined around his neck. She dug her fingers through his hair and wrapped her legs around his torso. Though she’d stopped sobbing, he watched more tears roll down her flushed cheeks, a river to cleanse her mind before she clamped her vaginal muscles down on him and began to come.
“God yes. Squeeze my cock. Don’t stop.” He slid one hand down to cup her ass and slid a finger up her tight rear hole. “I’m going to take you here very soon.”
“Omigod, Master.” Her eyes were glazed, her lips parted and her body limp. Les held her, murmuring soothing, caring words as he watched Duval fuck his wife while she sucked off the male sub and another male Dom fucked Jack’s ass.
The kinkiness of the scene didn’t turn him on the way he’d thought it would, and when he concentrated on the woman in his arms he realized what he wanted was her. Nobody else. A little kink was fine to spice up their sex life but he had no need for club play with Deidre. No compulsion to stake his claim or prove his dominance in public.
Chapter Six
“Open your eyes, chéri.”
His heat surrounded her as she came down from the sexual experience she’d thought she had craved. The part of it where Les had claimed her was all she’d expected and more—but Deidre didn’t think the club scene was for her.
Seeing the most graphic
sex she’d ever witnessed had disturbed her, even from the distance the video had afforded. It was too much, too intense, something she never would have imagined that people she knew—real people, not actors—would ever do. Not even in the privacy of their home, much less in public for everybody to see.
“Master, do you take part in scenes like that?” she asked, not sure Les could hear her since she couldn’t yet bring herself to raise her head off his chest and see the disappointment she imagined would be reflected in his dark eyes.
“Not exactly like that one but yes, I’ve taken part in staged scenes at clubs.” His reply was clipped, as if he didn’t want to discuss his participation any further.
Deidre knew she wasn’t thinking like a proper sex slave but she had to say it. “I’d rather enjoy our own private scenes.”
Les tightened his arms around her. The leather strips on his harness abraded her nipples when he drew her closer, so close that she felt the warm metal of his cock ring against her clit. “BDSM isn’t the same for everybody, any more than all vanilla sex is alike. Jack and Liz obviously enjoy sadomasochism. Since he’s the one who orchestrates their scenes, he apparently enjoys—” He hesitated, then continued, “Sex with other men as well as with women.”
If the scene they saw was any indication, Les was right. Jack did appear to enjoy anal sex with other men, almost as much as it looked as though he liked fucking Liz. Deidre leaned away from Les enough so she could look into his eyes. “Do you?”
“Do I enjoy sex with other men?”
“Do you?”
“I prefer women.” He’d hesitated just long enough for Deidre to realize he hadn’t exactly answered her question. “How would you like to get dressed and go spend the night at my place? I feel like enjoying sex with one particular woman—you.”
