Geek Actually Season 1 Omnibus

by Cathy Yardley

  A low-level orc death knight came into view. The chat window popped up with a tell: How do you like my new character?

  New? she typed back, bracing for a troll. Who is this?

  It’s Diego. I figured it was time I switched from Alliance to Horde so I could join your guild.

  She was still suspicious. I thought you told me you weren’t supposed to play at work?

  I know. I’ve got the toughest hardass for a boss, don’t I? Shhh. I might have to fire myself.

  LOL. Okay, that sounded like the real Diego. You want to do some raiding?

  I better level up a little first. No worries. I’ve got my heirloom armor so it’ll go a little quicker.

  In WoW, characters could whisper to each other even if they weren’t on the same quest or even in the same scene, so they kept up the chatter as each of them went about their quests.

  You know, I just looked, and there are still IMAX 3-D tickets available for tonight’s midnight showing of Wonder Woman.

  Oh yeah? Taneesha typed. Is that a hint?

  I’m going to kick these guys out if they’re still going at 11 p.m. Want to meet me? I’ll buy.

  Leaving the house suddenly sounded like a great idea. You get the tickets, I’ll get the popcorn.

  It’s a deal.

  It’s a date. :-)

  MICHELLE

  Michelle clutched the cane by the ergonomic grip on the end. It reminded her of a small lightsaber. She was so entranced thinking about it, feeling the weight of it in her hand and imagining using it, that she had barely heard the rest of Buffy’s gift-giving. But it caught her attention when Buffy hopped off her human pedestal and had all the unattached men kneel in front of her.

  “As is traditional, each of you should introduce yourself to the group so all the ladies know who is available for playing with, and then we’ll have cake.” The plump blonde clapped her hands. “Okay? You on the end, you start.”

  Michelle picked out a favorite right away: a slim guy who looked around her age and didn’t have a pretentious scene name. He introduced himself as Tim and said he was honored to be given away as a gift at a hobbit-style birthday party because The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit had been his favorite books as a kid.

  He’s perfect.

  “What about the cake, Buffy?” someone from the back yelled.

  Mistress Buffy had a very mischievous gleam in her eye. “Oh, but first, I almost forgot. Birthday spankings. I’m giving those out, too! On all fours, boys. Show me those cute little asses.”

  The half-dozen available men still kneeling in front of her shifted onto their hands and Buffy proceeded to make her way down the row, giving each one a thorough spanking of ten or twenty smacks. Then one of her slaves handed her a plate with a large portion of the cake on it, and she fed each man by the handful. Michelle hadn’t seen something so unbridled and decadent—and, well, fun—in forever.

  “Thank you, thank you!” Buffy was saying. “I’m taking Sven and Colin for myself, but the rest of you, now, come get the man you want, hmm?” She made eye contact with Michelle and gestured at the men as if they were a buffet.

  I suppose they are, in a way, Michelle thought as she edged forward, reluctant only because what if some other woman there had her eye on her favorite? It was like that moment when they opened the gate to the carousel. Would someone else get to the horse she wanted first? She didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes, and although no one had explicitly stated it, Michelle had a feeling that the women with more seniority would feel entitled to first pick. But no one had pounced on Tim. Maybe this was her chance.

  She flexed the cane in her hands, took a deep breath, and marched up to the man she’d chosen. He was sitting back on his heels now, looking slightly dazed.

  “You’ve still got frosting in your hair,” Michelle said. He looked up nervously, as if he’d be able to see what was on the top of his own head. He was cute in a vulnerable way, or maybe that was vulnerable in a cute way?

  Perhaps I’m beginning to see the appeal.

  “My apologies if my hair offends you, ma’am,” he said, biting his lip and trying to shrink down, but he was obviously bristling with excitement that Michelle was talking to him. His voice held a hopeful note. “I, um, I stand ready to be corrected?”

  Buffy was right. This is a huge ego boost.

  “I think you need to get cleaned up,” Michelle said, trying to sound stern, but her own eagerness was making her voice rise in pitch. “Into the shower with you!”

  To her delight, he bowed his head. “Yes, ma’am, right away, ma’am!” He got to his feet and hurried toward the bathroom.

  Michelle followed, the feeling of control surging through her.

  The designated wet-play bathroom itself was narrow, but the shower was large enough for four people and had two showerheads. Clean towels were neatly stacked beside an empty hamper. Michelle resisted the urge to twirl the Lucite cane she’d been given. Tim stood beside the clear glass door as if waiting for a command.

  Her command. Heady stuff. “You’d better strip down,” she warned.

  Not that he had much to strip off, just a bow tie and bike shorts. But it was still incredibly powerful to watch him remove his clothes at her will. When he was naked, he once again stood on the bath mat as if afraid he needed her permission for every move.

  Maybe he did. Michelle slid the door open and started the water going, then took a seat on the closed and padded lid of the toilet. She crossed her legs. “Go on. There’s soap and shampoo in there. Get cleaned up.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He stepped gingerly through the doorway and then closed the glass. She still had a brilliant view of him despite the steam. He wasn’t a Hollywood-sculpted specimen, but he wasn’t ugly, either, with nice legs, a graceful neck, and, oh yes, a very cute butt. She hefted the cane in her hand.

  “Ma’am? Should I… clean myself… everywhere?” he asked.

  “Of course,” Michelle replied, and then saw what he was asking. He was soaping up his pubes, his cock and balls. He almost pressed himself against the glass, and she wondered if some previous domme had made him display himself in the past. Probably. His balls hung low, and she noted with some surprise that once he came to his full length he could grip himself with both fists and there was still a few inches of head protruding from his fingers.

  Well.

  That was all very well and good, even if she didn’t have plans to use that lovely tool herself at this time. What had Mistress Buffy said when they’d been chatting about the party? To be on the safe side, no sex with a sub until they got to know one another better, but some corporal punishment was just fine? And if he was into humiliation to go on and lean into that if she wanted to.

  How do I tell if he’s into humiliation, though? Michelle wondered. Wait. You’re in charge. Make him tell you what he’s into.

  “Tim.”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Rinse off well now.” She stood and leaned the tip of the cane on her boot, watching him do as he was told. “And now shut off the water.”

  Him standing there naked and dripping wet in the shower lent the proceedings a prisoner-interrogation kind of vibe. Flexing the cane in her fingers, Michelle slid the door open with her boot and looked him up and down. “So. Tell me what you’re into.”

  “Ma’am,” he said with another bob of his head, “if it pleases you, I enjoy CBT, spanking—well, you knew that—Saran Wrap bondage, and, um…” His eyes were riveted to the cane in her hands. “And I enjoy being caned very, very much.”

  Michelle held in a smile. He might as well have said, Hint, hint. “And how about humiliation?”

  He flushed an even brighter red than the hot water had made him, his whole neck matching the scarlet of his cheeks. “Oh, ma’am, that is my fa—I mean, I am barely worthy of your attention as it is. If ma’am would deign to humiliate this lowly worm, it would be beyond what he deserves.”

  She clucked her tongue. Points off for switchin
g from first person to third person, she thought. Now if only she could’ve taken a cane to Sterling Knight’s rump every time his manuscript had a flaw like that… Don’t think about him. Think about the nice, obliging piece of man in front of you.

  “You like caning, do you?”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am.”

  “Hands against the wall. Spread ’em. Your feet, I mean.”

  He hurried to get into position, as if fearing and hoping there would be a price to pay if he wasn’t fast enough.

  Perfect. Michelle traced a line up the back of his thigh with the tip of the cane and gooseflesh came up all over him. She did it up his other leg, too, and watched him shiver in anticipation. Then she lined up where she planned to hit him across the buttocks.

  Whack. His yelp was loud in the tiled shower, and his ass shook, but he didn’t put his hands down. In fact, he wiggled his butt almost comically. His shout had startled her for a second, but the adrenaline turned to pure thrill as she watched a pink line appear on his skin where the cane had made contact.

  Oh, my God, I really did it. And he liked it.

  She did it again. He yelped again, this time followed by a string of words: “Oh, ma’am, this lowly slave needs correction! Strike me, beat me for your pleasure!”

  Sure thing, she thought, starting to lay the stripes on steadily now, drawing a pattern like Venetian blinds down his thighs like she’d seen doms do on YouTube. He thrust his ass farther outward, leaning over more and more, not trying to escape the blows at all, but the exact opposite.

  His words were a torrent now, never stopping except for a brief scream whenever she’d hit a little harder. “Ma’am! Mark me, ma’am! Bruise me, ma’am! I don’t deserve to be spared!”

  Spared?

  “Don’t spare my skin, don’t spare my balls! Harder! Please!”

  Wow, Tim was hard core. She started another row of stripes going up his thighs, parallel to the ones already there, putting a little more oomph into her swing.

  His pleading only got more intense, though, begging her to hurt him.

  Maybe he really means it, she thought, and she took as big a backswing as the shower stall would allow, changing the angle of her arm so she could catch him where his nuts hung down between his legs. They say the balls are pretty tough, don’t they? Here we go…

  His scream was so piercing that she dropped the cane as her hands flew toward her ears, but then she rushed forward to try to help him. He’d collapsed to the wet floor in the shower stall, gasping in pain, curled in the fetal position.

  Oh, God, did he hit his head?

  She got his head into her lap and was cradling him while he remained balled up, his breathing rapid. A goose egg was rising from his forehead. “Tim? Tim, can you hear me?”

  This was not good.

  ELLI

  Oh, yes, this was what cons were all about. Elli exited the all-night gaming room with a huge smile on her face. She’d just won a game of Slash: The Card Game because no one could really refute her logic that the absolute perfect pairing for Jon Snow was Jack Frost (c’mon, duh), nor that Jareth the Goblin King could pair with anyone, absolutely anyone at all, male or female, human or nonhuman. It wasn’t even winning that had been the most fun, it was just playing a game with people and being silly and having a great time. She hadn’t even known any of the people at the table when she’d sat down, but that was half the fun of cons, meeting new people and becoming Internet friends with them. Some of them would turn into con friends if she saw them regularly. Her parents didn’t really understand that she had a network of friends all over the country, or that her closest friends were scattered all over the continent. To them, she was a “lonely” girl.

  The only thing that made her feel lonely was thinking about who wasn’t here… so she tried not to think about it. Best to think positive, right?

  “Elli! I was wondering where you were. I haven’t seen you for hours.” Tyler swooped up to her in the hallway and twirled her around in her Princess Vivian dress. “Fab costume! Another you made?”

  “Yes, yes it is!” She stepped back and swished the skirt, pleased to be complimented by a fellow cosplayer. “Don’t you just love how this velvet moves?”

  “Oh, yes, I love it a lot,” Tyler said, running a hand down the loose folds of fabric.

  “But I’ve been wearing it for hours. It’s about time to get out of it. This bodice turned out to be a bit itchier than I thought it would be.” She checked the time: almost two in the morning. Pajama time, that’s what it is. “What about you? You look super-comfortable.” He was still in the same Mr. Tumnus outfit as earlier.

  “Very comfortable,” he said with a nod. “So comfortable I might wear it tomorrow, too.” He flexed his arms, showing off his bare chest.

  “Did you bring anything else?” Elli asked.

  “Oh, you know,” he said with a one-shouldered shrug that made Elli think he was trying not to talk about his ex. They had often come in matching cosplay outfits—Han Solo and Leia, Legolas and Gimli.

  Elli wondered if Del had been the one who did most of the sewing. Probably best not to bring it up, then. “Oh, gotcha. Well, this one is good for a single guy.” Oh shoot, so much for avoiding the sore subject…

  But he didn’t seem upset by her mention of his current unattached state. “It most certainly is,” he said with a wink. “Satyr matches my state of mind.”

  “A free spirit,” she said, agreeing quickly, glad he wasn’t upset.

  “I’ll work on something new for next con,” he said. “What else have you got on tap?”

  “Well, this is the new one,” she said, twirling around again to make her skirt flare. “But I also brought that Galadriel one you’ve seen before. Haven’t you?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said, rubbing his chin. “I think I would’ve remembered that.”

  “Oh, it’s the most gorgeous thing ever. I should retire it, but I’m so proud of it and I have the jewelry and everything, and the blonde hair makes the wig so much easier to deal with. You want to see it?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I do! I’m at loose ends right now,” he said with a wide grin. “I’m crashing with a friend but he’s not picking up his phone and I can’t get into our hotel room.”

  “Aw. Maybe he’s watching the midnight movie panel or something and turned it off,” she said. “Hang out with me a while and I’ll show you Galadriel.”

  Tyler bowed from the waist and gestured. “After you, princess. I am but your humble servant.”

  He was fun. Elli giggled and hurried to the elevator, Tyler chasing after her.

  MICHELLE

  Michelle hovered over the man sitting in the kitchen chair holding an ice pack to his head. “Are you sure you’re all right? Can I get you fresh ice?”

  Tim waved his free hand agitatedly. “Please, please, ma’am, I’m fine. Don’t fuss.”

  “I just want to be sure you’re okay,” Michelle said, leaning down to try to look him in the face. Were his pupils dilated? What were the signs of a concussion, anyway?

  But he wouldn’t look her in the eye, bowing his head. “No, really, I’m fine.”

  “Because I’d be happy to go with you to the hospital. Can I get you a drink of water?”

  “Please,” he said, plaintive and truly pleading with her now, “just leave me alone. Thank you very much for all your attention, truly, ma’am, but I would like to be let alone now.”

  Oh. Oh, God. He didn’t even want to talk to her anymore. “All right. But all the books say I should make sure you’re okay.”

  He stood and plopped the bag of ice into the sink. “I’m fine,” he said one last time, and then fled the room with a last rough bow in her direction.

  CHRISTINA

  The entire world appeared to be rising and falling as if they were on the surface of the Pacific Ocean and not lying on the immaculate white shag carpet of Vivi’s modular living room. At least that’s how it felt to Christina. Every time she took a breath anoth
er wave passed through. “I don’t remember nitrous being like this back in high school.”

  Vivi’s voice came from right by her ear. “You probably weren’t mixing it with Infinity.”

  “True.” Christina took another breath and a whole-body shiver akin to an orgasm passed through her. A starlet’s life apparently included designer drugs in addition to the clothes. She heard the hiss of Vivi filling another paper bag with nitrous. Then the perfect cheekbones and lips of her lover floated into view above her.

  “Do another hit while I’m eating you out,” Vivi said. “It’s better than coming while getting choked.”

  Do I want to know when you came while getting choked? Or by whom? This wasn’t the time to ask. Not when trying to keep her train of thought long enough to finish a sentence was a challenge. “Hand me the bag.” She waved her hand until she felt the paper bag pressed into it. Her extremities seemed very far away.

  But the molten heat between her legs didn’t. Not with Vivi’s tongue and lips going at her. She was so close already, so aroused, it wasn’t going to take long for Vivi to make her come. Christina pressed the bag to her face, sucking in the gas and setting off purple explosions behind her eyes at the same time a wave of searing release shock-waved from her clit.

  When Christina’s vision cleared and she could feel her fingers and toes again, she looked down her body to see Vivi’s feral grin rising above her mons like a sunrise over the hills.

  “Okay, you’re right,” Vivi said. “I’m glad we decided to stay in tonight. Now you do me.”

  “Gladly,” Christina said. “As soon as I can sit up.”

  ELLI

  Elli looked at the clock radio beside the bed in her hotel room. Was it really four in the morning? She couldn’t believe how fast the hours had flown while talking to Tyler. He was so smart and nice and fun to talk to.