I is for...

by L. DuBois

  “Exactly.”

  “Did he touch you sexually?” BDSM scenes didn’t have to include a sexual component, and in many public clubs they couldn’t. It was another reason he liked Las Palmas. Most members wanted to include some level of sexual touching in their play.

  “A bit—some breast play, at the beginning, but nothing else.”

  “Do you still play with Master Leo?”

  “Not recently. I have others I usually play with.”

  “And what does that play look like?”

  “I’m not sure I want to tell you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think you won’t think it’s…enough.”

  “And why would you say that?”

  “Because you like submission that’s mental, right? You like subs who get off on sitting still and being pretty.” She was shifting from foot to foot, body language matching the unease in her voice.

  “It’s not about what I think is enough. It’s about understanding you. You said you like to play until you safe word out. I won’t do that. I want to know you.” He stepped in close enough that he could feel her exhaled breath as a breeze against his collarbone. “I want to know where your edge is, so that I stop before you get there. I won’t let you out until I’m ready. Do you understand?”

  “Ye-yes.” The word was uneven, breathy.

  He reached up, caught the long tail of her hair and pulled, forcing her to tilt her face up. “I think I’m beginning to understand you. This weekend is going to push us—both of us—outside our comfort zones.”

  “That’s what they wanted.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’ll change who I am, as a Dom.”

  “I’m not going to change, either.”

  He smiled at that. “Of course not. But you are going to have a warning word. Yellow. You say ‘yellow’ when you—”

  “I’m not going to say ‘yellow’ to slow down a—”

  “Do not interrupt me, Chastity.” He put steel in the words, and she shut up, her teeth practically clicking together she closed her mouth so fast.

  He tugged her hair again, forcing her to meet his gaze. “If you even start thinking about your safe word, that you might want to or need to use it soon, you say ‘yellow’. If you say ‘cup’ without using the word ‘yellow’ first, there will be consequences. If I asked you to check in, you tell me ‘green’ if you’re doing okay, ‘yellow’ if you’re having trouble with what’s happening and you say ‘cup’ for your safe word.”

  She was stuck on the first part of his statement. “What kind of consequences?”

  He smirked. “The kneeling naked and having to finish each sentence with the word ‘Sir’ kind of consequences.”

  “Diabolical.” Her voice was mild, and he wondered if she knew that he could read the truth of her feelings in her expression. He doubted it.

  She may be taunting him, but there was real concern in the way her eyebrows were drawn together and the corners of her mouth pinched in.

  He released her hair and stepped back. “Take off your clothes.”

  Without hesitation, Chastity reached for the buckles of the corset.

  Chapter 4

  She felt like she was in a TV show, one of those ones where the characters all talked incredibly fast, and a single episode had more action than some movies.

  Master Raine was intense. Not that the Doms she’d played with in the past hadn’t been. There had been Doms who pushed her to the point of sobbing even as she begged for them to whip her again. He was a different kind of intense. She felt a little off balance, yet at the same time was totally focused on this moment.

  Their verbal sparring kept her centered.

  She worked the buckles of her corset, starting at the top and undoing the upper two, then the lower two. For the rest, she alternated between the upper- and lower-most buckles, until she was left with only a single strap holding the stiff corset on her body.

  “Take it off.” He growled the words, gaze fixed on her breasts where the inner curves were exposed by the gaping corset.

  She undid the final buckle, peeled the stiff corset away from her skin, and let it fall.

  This was a moment of power for her, one that never made her feel less submissive. She’d come to realize, and accept, that though her body wasn’t perfect, it was powerful. There was something magical about the first moment she stripped for a Dom, the moment when she revealed her naked breasts.

  When her underwear came off, exposing her pussy, that always made her feel vulnerable, not powerful. But exposing her breasts, baring herself this way, it was a feeling she relished.

  Master Raine’s reaction was perfect.

  His gaze went immediately to her breasts and lingered. He didn’t smirk or smile. He regarded her seriously, almost studying her. When he circled one finger in the air, she put her weight on one heel and spun in a slow circle, letting him get the 360-degree view.

  “Beautiful,” he said, and she believed it. Felt it. “Now I’d like you to remove the sleeves.”

  It hadn’t been an order, but a request. He’d said earlier she had the option to keeping them on. She used the sleeves to make sure she didn’t have any hard-to-explain bruises or marks when she left Las Palmas. They weren’t doing impact play, which meant there was very little likelihood of that.

  She’d take them off. If she was wrong about him, there was always stage makeup or clothes she could use to hide any marks.

  Her PVC sleeves were a little unwieldy, so getting them off in front of someone wasn’t as pretty as stripping out of a corset. Two buttons at the back of her neck held the collar part closed. She undid those, then peeled the single-piece garment down and off first one arm and then the other. The smell of the talcum powder she used to help get the thing on assaulted her senses, and she went to drop the sleeves and corset by her boots. When she was by the door she quickly brushed off her arms, before returning to stand before him.

  She expected him to say something, but he just looked at her, studying her near-full nudity.

  “Now the panties.”

  The feeling of goddess-like power faded, to be replaced by an all-too-mortal fear of being totally naked, vulnerable.

  That fear didn’t stop her. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her underwear, then pushed them over her hips and thighs. When the panties hit her knees, she wiggled and they fell to the floor. Chastity stepped out of the discarded garment and struck a pose. It was bravado driving her to spread her feet to shoulder width, creating a gap between her thighs wide enough for his hand to reach in and cup her pussy if he wanted to.

  Once more, he circled his finger.

  She spun, canting her hips back as she turned to show off her ass, which more than one Dom had described as “spankable.”

  “You have a lovely body.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Why don’t you bring that lovely body over here so I can have a closer look?”

  Master Raine was gesturing into a patch of shadow off to one side. Squinting to get her eyes to focus, she took a few steps until she saw what he was gesturing at. It was a simple stainless-steel table, almost like something from a restaurant kitchen. It was roughly two feet wide by three feet long.

  “Sit on top. Legs spread. I want your knees on either side.”

  Chastity walked up to the short end of the table and turned to hop on. Master Raine’s hands were unexpectedly on her waist, the heat of them startling. He lifted as she hopped. The table was cold under her ass and she shivered.

  She started to spread her legs, but he placed a hand on each thigh, stopping her. Holding her by the knees, he turned her so that she was oriented with her legs dangling over the long side of the table.

  “Now spread your legs.”

  Instead of spreading them open only a few feet, now she had to spread wide, her inner thigh muscles stretching as she exposed herself to him. She swallowed hard as she felt her labia gape open.

  “Hold on to the back edge of
the table. Lean back. Breasts up.”

  Again she obeyed, planting the heels of her hands behind her hips, fingers curled over the edge of the table, her back arched, breasts thrust up.

  Master Raine walked away.

  Chastity closed her eyes and forced herself not to react—or overreact—to his leaving. He undoubtedly just went to get something. It wasn’t a commentary on her posture or body. She hated that she had to do this, that she felt so unsure of herself—because he was a new partner—that she was doubting and second-guessing herself. It was like being on a first date—everything felt new and unsettling.

  A first date where she was naked and spread.

  Light clicked on, blindingly bright even through her closed lids.

  She gasped and scrunched up her face, giving herself time to adjust to the light. His footsteps heralded his return, and she opened one eye to look at him. He’d turned on several angled spotlights and she was once more in a cone of light, unable to see more than vague shadows in the rest of the darkened room.

  “Even better,” he commented. He stopped several feet away from her and was once more examining her. This time his gaze slid from her breasts down to her sex, which was bare and spread. She’d had laser hair removal on most of her body—a gift from Master Leo. There was no hair to shield her from his gaze.

  She opened her other eye and tipped her head to the side to look at him. She kept her back arched as she did, which strained her neck, but she wanted to see him.

  She was struck again by how physical he was. How almost brutal he looked, which seemed to be at odds with how he topped. He was too muscled, his face too intense, brows too dark and thick. It was odd, because the first man to really dominate her—Master Leo—looked like refined elegance, but was a sadistic top.

  “I’m going to touch you now. I want to know your body.”

  “I understand.”

  He stepped up until his thighs hit the edge of the table. Then his hands settled on her ribs, his thumbs tapping the lower swell of her breasts.

  That small touch, intimate but not yet invasive, made her breath catch in her throat.

  “You have sensitive skin,” he commented.

  “I’m tough,” she assured him.

  “Having sensitive skin doesn’t mean you aren’t also tough.”

  He cupped her breasts, squeezing the globes with a possessive assurance that pushed all her mental “submissive” buttons.

  Chastity’s eyes closed and she let her head fall back, her neck stretched and vulnerable.

  “Good,” he murmured. “That’s beautiful. Do you enjoy nipple play?”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  He plucked her nipples, pinching them gently then pulling his hands away so her nipples slid from between his fingers. He repeated the playing caress several times, leaving her breasts bouncing and her breathing slow and deep. From her breasts he moved up, the heels of his hands skimming her upper chest, then out across her shoulders. He kneaded her upper arms, fingers gentle on her flexed muscles.

  Once he reached her elbows, he jumped back to her ribs, once more thumbing the bottom of her breasts. She waited for him to toy with her nipples again but, instead, his hands slid down along the dip of her waist to the flare of her hips. She hid the wince when his hands slid along the skin that was bunched and plumped because of her position. Then his hands were moving out from her hips to smooth along her thighs. He skimmed his palms over the tops to her knees, then kneaded his way along her inner thighs towards her sex. She held her breath when he was close enough that she could feel the heat of his hands on her labia.

  “Do you want me to touch you here?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you like to call this? Your pussy? Cunt? Sex?”

  “Pussy.”

  “You have a lovely pussy.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Why don’t you show her to me?”

  Chastity raised her head, chin on her chest. Master Raine only quirked an eyebrow at her.

  Shifting her weight to one side, Chastity lifted her right hand, reached between her legs, and opened her pussy. She scissored her fingers to spread her outer labia, but she was so wet that her pussy lips slid out from under the gentle pressure of her fingers. She repeated the motion, brushing her clit as she delved two fingers into her pussy, then spread herself, this time pressing hard.

  Master Raine dropped to one knee, bringing his chin level with the table. He was looking right at her pussy. That was embarrassing, alarming, and arousing, all at the same time. The chaotic feelings made her breath tremble and her heartbeat quicken.

  “Lovely,” he repeated. “Now take your hand away. Lick your fingers clean.”

  Chastity stuck her fingers in her mouth.

  “How do you taste?”

  “Creamy. A little salty.” She was honest. She wasn’t going to lie and say something stupid like strawberries. “And ready.”

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Ready,” she repeated.

  “Topping from the bottom.”

  “No. Enticing from the bottom.”

  He laughed softly, then swiped a single finger through her pussy. She jumped in reaction. The touch was there and then gone before she could really enjoy it. Master Raine raised his finger to his nose and inhaled, then stood.

  “Stay like this. I’m going to get supplies. When I come back, we begin in earnest.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  The words were out before she thought about them, and they surprised her. Master Raine looked at her, smiled, and then he was gone.

  She had no idea how much time had passed. Intellectually, she knew it was probably no more than five minutes, but emotionally it felt like an hour. Anticipation and fear of the unknown—fear of what their game items might be—had stretched each second, making the wait last a lifetime.

  When she heard the door open, she forced her shoulders and legs, which had both tensed, to relax. Releasing the muscles felt good, like changing from one position to another in yoga, and the endorphins helped her to calm her breathing, so by the time he appeared in the cone of light encasing her, she was poised and ready.

  He held an ice bucket under one arm.

  “Ice?”

  He shook the bucket, making the ice inside rattle. “Scared?”

  “Of ice? No. I should have guessed.”

  He set the bucket on the corner of the table behind her knee. Then he reached into a pocket and pulled out a pair of leather gloves.

  “I don’t want my fingers to get cold.” He raised one gloved hand and waggled his fingers at her.

  “Oh no, that would be terrible if your fingers got cold.” She pursed her lips.

  He laughed, again seeming almost startled by the fact that he was amused. Taking the top off the ice bucket, he plucked out one crescent-shaped piece of ice. He held it up, examining it, then turned it in his gloved hand.

  With excruciating slowness, he lowered his hand, touching the edge of the ice cube to the top of her left thigh. She gasped, her thigh muscles twitching.

  “Cold?”

  “Are you asking me if ice is cold?”

  “Hmm.” He moved the ice in a spiraling motion, creating a widening wet patch on the top of her thigh. He held the ice cube up and examined it again.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Making sure there aren’t any sharp edges.”

  “Why?”

  “Because sharp ice isn’t how I’m going to hurt you.”

  The words touched something inside her—the threat and promise of delicious pain stimulating her mentally as surely as if he’d touched her physically. Chastity didn’t bother to hide her little hiss of pleasure and anticipation.

  He applied the ice cube to her other thigh. “You like that idea, don’t you? Of pain.”

  “Not just of pain. Of pain because of submission.” That wasn’t quite right, but she was too aroused to clarify.

  A rivulet of water slid down the i
nside of her thigh. His thumb tracked the path of the water. “Nice and smooth.”

  She wasn’t sure if he was talking about the ice or her skin.

  The ice cube lifted from her thigh, and with her head back she didn’t see his next movement. One moment she was focused on the cold spots on her legs, the vague tickling caused by the water running down her skin.

  The next moment the ice was against her labia, then between them, right over her clit.

  It was a cold so intense and sudden that for a moment it felt like heat, as if he were burning her.

  Chastity shrieked and tried to close her legs. Her knees smacked against his hips, squeezing him tight.

  “Spread. Your. Legs.”

  The command was hard and sharp, the cold burn on her clit relentless.

  “Master Raine, I—”

  “You can spread those legs, and give me access to your pussy voluntarily, or I can tie you open.” His voice was all silky menace.

  Chastity spread her legs, once more hooking her knees over the edges of the table.

  He lifted the ice cube from her clit and she sucked in a breath of relief.

  “How did that feel?”

  “It hurt,” she breathed.

  “Good hurt or bad hurt?”

  “Good. Bad. Different. I’m not sure.”

  “Maybe if we do it again it will clarify your feelings.”

  Once more the ice cube pressed against her clit. The sensations weren’t as strong, and it took several breaths for the sweet, cold burn to start. She breathed through it and into it.

  “It’s different,” she said, letting the words flow. “At first, it almost felt like hot wax, but the sensation lasts longer. This hurt is so...focused. I’m not used to pain there.”

  “On your pussy?”

  “On my clit.”

  “So you do enjoy some pussy pain.”

  “I enjoy the occasional slap or cropping.”

  “But only on your labia and mound.” He pressed the heel of his hand against the plump skin at the top of her sex.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’ll be sure to spend plenty of time on your clit.” He slid the ice cube away from her now almost-numb clit.

  Cold water trailed down her inner labia, in advance of the ice cube, which he rubbed over the soft, warm flesh of her pussy before pushing the ice cube inside her.