I is for...

by L. DuBois

  Chastity yelped and arched up, ass slapping down on the table a moment later. The sensation of cold inside her was gone almost as soon as it had started.

  “You pushed the ice cube out. Next time I want you to relax when I put the ice cube inside you.”

  “Isn’t that...I mean, can’t I get a cold burn?” She was shivering as she spoke, and her nipples were so hard they ached. Though it wasn’t cold in the room—most playrooms were kept slightly warmer than normal in deference to the nakedness of the members—she was chilled to the core.

  “You could, if I used too large of an ice cube, or if your body weren’t naturally insulated by your own lubrication. I won’t let it get to that point.”

  He took a fresh ice cube, examined it, and then began to rub it along her collarbone. She shivered, gooseflesh appearing on her arms. Cold water trickled down her chest and alongside her breasts.

  “You’ll have to trust me.”

  “I just met you,” she pointed out. She didn’t believe submission meant she couldn’t or shouldn’t protect herself.

  “That’s true, and I want you to feel safe.” He moved the ice to the underside of her breast, lifting it and tracing the curve where breast met torso. Her already tight nipples tingled.

  He said something, but she missed it. “I’m sorry?”

  “I asked if you’d like me to get someone to sit in? The Iron Court doesn’t have observation rooms, but if you’re nervous, we can find someone to join us.”

  Several of the courts had narrow observation rooms sandwiched in between the playrooms. One-way mirrors allowed people inside the observation rooms to watch what was happening in the rooms on either side. Here in the Iron Court, there were no one-way mirrors, no observation rooms.

  She didn’t respond right away, and Master Raine backed off, taking the ice cube from under her breasts and actually stepping away from the table.

  “I want you to feel safe, Chastity.”

  Did she trust this man, this Dom, enough to be alone with him? She did right now, but she wasn’t restrained in any way. Sometimes tops became more brutal when the sub was helpless, especially if they had sadistic tendencies.

  “I trust you as much as I can,” she said finally.

  “That’s not a satisfactory answer.”

  Chastity sat forward, planting her hands on the table in front of her pussy. “That’s the only answer I have for you. I’m not going to say I trust you when I don’t know what’s going to happen in this scene. You said you want me to use ‘yellow’? Okay, I will, and if I do use ‘yellow’ I want one option to be for me to ask for an observer.”

  Master Raine listened to her, his face unreadable. Actually, he looked angry, but she had a feeling that was just what his face looked like. If he were a woman he would have resting bitch face. He had resting brooding-warlord-face.

  Instead of answering, he looked at the small piece of ice in his gloved hand, then back to her.

  “I’m worried…”

  She tensed. Here it came. He was going to say they weren’t a good fit.

  “I’m worried that you think you have to negotiate for that.” He looked up, his eyes intense. “Of course I will bring in an observer if you don’t feel safe.”

  She blinked. “Oh.”

  “But I do need you to trust me.” He frowned—his brows drawing together, the corners of his mouth pinching down. “Let me put it another way. I need you to believe that I know what I’m doing. We haven’t played together before, but I am an experienced Dom.”

  “Oh! I didn’t mean…I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t.”

  “Okay.” His expression relaxed back to brooding-warlord-neutral. “But you haven’t answered my question.”

  Rather than answer him only with words, Chastity resumed her position—hands behind her, body arched. “Yes, I do trust you.” She dropped her head back.

  She couldn’t see him now. She was looking up into the lights and closed her eyes against the brightness.

  She wasn’t surprised—though the cold still shocked her into jumping—when ice rubbed her inner labia and then slid inside her. She shivered but forced herself to stay still, to let the ice sit inside her, a cold spot that lit up the nerves inside her vagina.

  Then his gloved finger pressed into her, feeling impossibly large and also cold. The leather was cool from handling the ice, so his hand, which should have been warm, felt almost foreign.

  He curled his finger, sliding the ice out of her. She heard a small clink as it hit the table.

  Then there was a rattle as he fished another piece of ice out of the bucket. She tensed, waiting, her eyes closed.

  Ice touched her lips, and she parted them. He dropped the piece of ice into her mouth, and she pressed it against the roof of her mouth with her tongue. Then she maneuvered it between her back teeth and bit down. It cracked and crunched satisfyingly, and Master Raine made an amused sound.

  “You know what they say about people who chew ice.”

  “That they are good submissives who deserve orgasms?” The words were slightly muffled by her mouthful of ice bits.

  “Interesting. I’d always heard they were sexually frustrated, but I like your version.”

  In unison, two pieces of ice pressed against her nipples. Chastity sat up, hollowing her chest in an instinctive move to pull her breasts away from cold. Her teeth clenched and she crushed the last few chunks of ice.

  “Ah ah ah,” he scolded. “Breasts up.”

  She swallowed her mouthful of ice water, felt the cold moving down her esophagus. “I’m sorry. It startled me.”

  “That’s fine, but now get back in position so I can torment those pretty nipples.”

  She arched her back, her breath coming in small pants of anticipation.

  “Hold perfectly still.”

  She expected him to chill her nipples, but instead he balanced an ice cube in the small hollow created by the dip at the center of her collarbones and the base of her throat. She sucked in air in surprise and felt the ice cube start to slide off. He caught it, putting it back in place, the curved side nestled in place against her.

  “Control your breathing,” he commanded. “I want you to take steady breaths, so the ice doesn’t fall. Each time it falls you get another one.”

  “Another one of—”

  The ice slid off her neck, pinging against the table before falling to the floor.

  “That’s one. Maybe you’d best not talk, either.”

  Oh, this was diabolical. It seemed so small and simple, to stay still enough to keep the ice balanced, but it was going to be hard. She could try to control her body’s natural reaction to the cold, but it was hard to stop a shiver. And now she couldn’t talk.

  And she hadn’t been able to ask her question. What did he mean that she’d get “another one”? Another one of what?

  A fresh ice cube was put in place.

  And then he went to work on her nipples.

  He rubbed the curved side of the ice around her breasts, working his way in towards the nipple. When he reached the ruched tips, he pressed the ice hard against her, compressing her nipple under the ice, forcing her body to yield.

  She managed to stay still for nearly a minute, but then an almost violent shiver wracked her, and the ice cube on her neck fell to the floor.

  “That’s two.”

  A fresh piece of ice was balanced on her chilled skin. Then he began to flick her nipples with ice, using the hard edge. For a moment, her brain insisted he wasn’t using ice, but a knife. She knew he wasn’t—it wasn’t that sharp, it wasn’t cutting her—but ice play was unfamiliar, and her brain was jumping to knife play, which was something she’d done before as the next most familiar activity.

  Arguing with herself that this wasn’t knife play made the third ice cube fall.

  The fourth tumbled off her when he switched from her nipples to her pussy, once more holding ice against her clit.

  The fifth and final piece fell after Ma
ster Raine put one hand in the bucket of ice, held it there and then pushed two cold, gloved fingers into her pussy. The fullness of his fingers stretching her was too delicious. She moaned and lifted her hips, pressing herself into and onto his hand, until she felt his knuckles digging against her pelvic bone.

  “Five.”

  “Worth it,” she moaned.

  Again he laughed, but she was distracted by his fingers inside her. He was curling and uncurling them, hitting her G-spot.

  Her butt and thigh muscles started to ache from holding the odd position—her body braced on the heels of her hands and the backs of her knees where they were hooked over the edge of the table.

  She dropped down to sit, and his fingers slid out of her. Chastity waited for him to place another ice cube on her neck, but he didn’t. She lifted her head and watched as he peeled off the gloves.

  He carefully laid the gloves one atop the other and then slapped the pair of them against his leg.

  Chastity licked her upper lip. Was he going to spank her with the gloves? She’d never been spanked that way before, but right now she’d take any sort of impact play. She craved the sweet sting and heavy contact.

  “Off the table, please.”

  She was stiff from holding the position, so it took her a minute to get off. Her butt slid across the metal—the table was now coated in a thin film of water, thanks to all the melted ice.

  She took a minute to stretch once she was standing, bending forward to touch her toes to help stretch out her legs and back.

  When she straightened and flipped her ponytail out of her face, she found him watching her with a little half smile.

  “Most subs would stand still or assume a submissive position.”

  “I’m not most subs.” She raised her chin and smiled. “Besides, I needed to stretch and I’m not going to expect my top to anticipate everything and order me to do everything.”

  He nodded, and his face was back to that almost-angry neutral expression. Internally, she winced in embarrassment. It was woefully clear he wasn’t used to, and didn’t really like, this behavior.

  She wasn’t his type.

  Well, she wasn’t going to change how she subbed or who she was because of who her top was. She didn’t believe BDSM and submission were about changing for your partner. That wasn’t how vanilla relationships were supposed to work, either. If anything, people had to be truer to themselves once kink was involved.

  His gaze skimmed down her body. “How is your ankle? Any pain?”

  She bounced up onto her toes and then back down. “Nope. Ankle is fine.”

  “Then it’s time for your punishment.”

  Chapter 5

  Alexandre watched her carefully. She stilled when he said the word “punishment”, but then pushed one naked hip out to the side.

  “Mmm, the good stuff.”

  “You don’t even know what the punishment is. Maybe it’s more ice.”

  Her face squished up. “Ice. Who knew something so simple could be so diabolical? Or maybe it’s just the man holding the ice who is diabolical.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

  He laughed.

  He’d laughed more with this woman than he’d laughed with another adult in months. The person and things that made him happy enough to laugh were worlds away from Las Palmas. He came here because it was an emotional outlet through sex and kink, not for companionship.

  Chastity was fun. Fun to talk to, fun to top.

  Fun.

  Huh.

  He absently slapped the gloves against his leg, and she made a little noise when he did. Her gaze was fastened to his hand.

  “Is this what you want?” He smacked the leather gloves against his leg again, hard enough to make a sharp cracking noise.

  She nodded, that long tail of ombre hair swinging behind her.

  “Turn around and bend over. Chest on the table. Hands holding the edge of the table.”

  She obeyed with alacrity, whirling and dropping her breasts onto the damp metal table. She positioned herself perfectly—far enough back so she was able to rest her cheek on the table, her ass up. She grabbed the far end of the table with one hand, but folded her other arm under her head resting her cheek on her forearm.

  That wasn’t what he’d ordered her to do. He’d told her to hold on to the far side of the table.

  But if she’d done that, putting her cheek on the table without the cushion of her arm, he would have had to adjust her position, maybe find a pillow of some sort. Positioning someone so they were comfortable and safe was a time-consuming and careful process. Because of who he was and what he did, he always took his time getting a sub into position, adjusting where needed.

  Chastity was taking the initiative, getting into a position that was comfortable, even if it meant disobeying. He’d once heard subs who enjoyed or needed to obey rules and commands, and be corrected for minor infractions, described as “high protocol” submissives. Those were the sort he usually played with.

  If one of them had done what Chastity just had, it would have been a sign that they wanted and needed him to correct them. That they needed to feel his detailed control.

  He had known Chastity for only hours, but in the context of BDSM that was long enough to start to understand her. She’d done it because she was preparing herself to be punished, and part of the prep was to make sure she was in the proper position to accept the punishment, which she probably assumed would be some sort of spanking.

  It wasn’t. He had a much better idea than a simple spanking.

  “Where did I tell you to put your hands?”

  She hesitated, and he heard her sigh. Then she lifted her head and grabbed the edge of the table with the other hand. She awkwardly lay her head down. Because of her breasts and the angle of her torso, now her temple was resting on the table.

  If she’d done this at the start, he would have immediately started making adjustments.

  “I didn’t ask you to move. I asked you where I told you to put your hands.”

  “You told me to hold onto the edge.”

  “And why didn’t you?”

  She made a disgruntled little noise. “Do you want the real answer or the good-little-submissive answer?”

  He was glad she couldn’t see his grin. His voice was low and rough when he said, “Real answer. Always.”

  “Because both arms holding the edge isn’t a good position with this height and size table. Plus, my head will smack against the metal if you spank me like this and I’d have to safe word out—wait, wait, I didn’t forget, I mean I’d say ‘yellow’.” Another pause. “I thought I’d just go ahead and take a better position. I didn’t mean to be disobedient. It wasn’t a rebellion or anything.”

  He walked to the side of the table and bent at the waist, tipping his head so he could see her face, and she could see his.

  “That’s along the lines of what I had guessed.”

  She frowned. “Wait, are you mad, or…”

  “I’m learning you. And I want you to know that I can tell this is not a good position.” He slid his hand below her head, cradling it in his palm. “Once you were to this point, I would have started making adjustments to make sure you were comfortable and safe.”

  Her mouth rounded in a sweet little “O” shape that made him want to fuck her face.

  “Ah, so I didn’t…you think I didn’t trust you.”

  “No, I think that you take initiative.”

  “And that’s a bad thing in your book.”

  “Not at all. It’s simply not something I’m used to.” He withdrew his hand. “Please, rest your head on your arm.”

  She folded her arm under her cheek, and her eyes were sad. “We’re not each other’s type.”

  She wasn’t wrong, but…

  He shook his head. “That doesn’t mean we can’t have a good time.”

  Her lips pulled up in a grin and she wiggled her butt. Alexandre was leaning down to kiss her before he realized what he was doing. He sto
pped himself just in time, covering the movement by blowing on her neck. Much to his satisfaction she shivered.

  He straightened and dropped the gloves onto her back. Then he picked up the ice bucket, moving it from the corner of the table to just beside her waist.

  Time to look at the ass.

  He retreated a few steps, and leaned back, really taking in the lovely view. She had her heels a few inches apart, her lower back curved down, her ass thrust up. It was round and soft-looking.

  It was a good thing she liked impact play. He doubted there was a Dom—hell, a man—in the world who wouldn’t look at that ass and think about spanking it.

  Or holding onto it while fucking her.

  Still, he was interested in more than just spanking her.

  He tried to walk silently to the table, wanting to surprise her with the first swat. He must have been at least partially successful because when he whacked her right ass cheek—with an upward swat that made her whole butt jiggle—she yelped.

  He hadn’t hit hard enough to leave a mark—he’d wanted to see it jiggle and it had, gloriously. He switched hands and spanked her left cheek.

  That was just too much damn fun.

  Though it hadn’t been part of his original punishment plan, Alexandre started spanking her in earnest. He alternated between slaps that came from below, to straight-on spanks that started to turn her pale flesh a blush pink.

  He’d pause long enough between blows to give her a moment to use a safe word if needed. She didn’t, and instead he was treated to a symphony of little noises—gasps and yips, moans and sighs.

  Then, after about three minutes, something changed. She stopped making different noises and instead when the sound of the spank faded, all he heard was her steady, slow breathing.

  He spanked her a few more times, wondering if she was bored.

  Her breathing remained deliberately slow and deep.

  Alexandre leaned to the side to catch a glimpse of her face. Her lids were half lowered and she was gazing into middle space. Her lips were parted and there was a spot of color on her visible cheek.