Vouloir

by J. D. Chase

  ‘Fuck.’

  ‘Sorry, man.’

  I shrug and pick up my pint; it’s not his fault. I take a big sip, feeling my euphoria slipping away.

  Maybe she’s had to pop out. Maybe she’s delayed. I should text her. I whip my phone out of my back pocket and see that I have a missed call. What the hell? I’ve not heard my phone ring.

  I look at the notification on my screen. A missed call from her and a voicemail message. I click it and almost hold my breath. As the automated message prattles on, giving me options, I’m almost praying that she’s telling me she’s going to be late and to hold on for her.

  I listen to the message and slam my phone down onto the bar, drawing the attention of several others around me.

  Something’s come up. It’s urgent. She’ll see me at ten o’clock in the morning. And she’s sorry.

  Yeah, not as sorry as I am.

  I feel lost. Deflated. So I do what I do best when things don’t go my way. I drink.

  A few pints later and I’m feeling much calmer. Serene almost. Until some woman comes and sits next to me, draping her hand on my leg and she hoists her slight frame onto the stool. All I can see is that she’s wearing black—like most people in here and that her hair is long and red. Not red as in natural redhead, red as in Royal Mail red. Her no fuss approach and her touch emboldens me. I begin to think it could be my lucky night after all. Perhaps I could take her to a room out the back. Maybe try out a few of the things that I saw last night. My cock twitches. Oh yeah, it’s game on if she’s game. Her hand is still on my leg. I’m staring at it like a dumb fuck. She begins to rub my thigh. Up and down. Nice and slow. My cock is definitely interested.

  ‘Aren’t you going to offer to buy me a drink?’ she asks, her voice laced with sex.

  I can barely believe my luck. I look up and the barman is there, looking at me expectantly. I nod, somehow knowing that he knows her favoured drink.

  He mixes a vodka and tonic and slides it across the bar. I pay him from my wallet resting on the bar. Then I sit back, well, I attempt to do so. I’m so wired that I’m tense. I must look like I’ve got a poker shoved up my arse.

  ‘Thanks, handsome,’ she says, holding up her glass.

  I clink mine against hers. I still can’t bring myself to look her in the eye. I feel about fifteen.

  ‘Oh come now, won’t you join me in real man’s drink? Beer breath is so unattractive. What’s your poison?’

  ‘W . . . whisky,’ I mutter.

  ‘Scotch? On the rocks?’

  I can barely hear what she’s saying. Her fucking hand has slid up to the top of my right thigh. And I dress to the right, if you know what I mean. So her fingers are literally millimetres away from my fucking hard-on. I can barely breathe. So I just nod.

  A glass of whisky slides across the bar. I pay him again, trying not to move from the waist. The thought of her fingers accidentally brushing against the outline of my cock both thrills and terrifies me.

  That thought rapidly becomes a reality. Though it’s no fucking accident. I feel her fingers slide over my cock and then she rubs it firmly with her flattened palm.

  I almost shoot off my stool but I don’t. I take a gulp of whisky and then splutter as it burns down my throat.

  ‘Careful, tiger, we don’t want any accidents. In any case, I should be the one in danger of choking on something,’ she purrs, giving my cock a firm squeeze to underline her meaning.

  Fuuuuuuuuck! Is that her way of hinting we should go out back and . . .

  Suddenly things are escalating much faster than I’d anticipated and I’m fighting to keep calm. So much for the new me. Ready to take on the world.

  My cock betrays me. It flexes wildly under her grasp.

  I’m going to get laid. Fucking hell, I’m going to take a submissive out the back and fuck her brains out. And the best part is, she takes her instructions from me. That way, I can’t see how anything can go wrong. I tell her to suck my cock. She sucks it. I tell her to ride my cock into the middle of next week and . . . bingo! The women in here are experienced. They’ll know how to get themselves off. All I have to do is lie there.

  Fucking win!

  ‘I watched you last night,’ she says. Her hand is back to rubbing along my cock.

  I nod. Not trusting myself to speak.

  ‘Did you like what you saw? It looked like you did.’

  I nod again. More earnestly, this time.

  ‘Veuve tells me that you’re a BDSM virgin.’

  Oh thanks a fucking lot. I could cheerfully murder my therapist. And just like that, my dreams of putting this sub through her paces go up in smoke.

  She grips my cock firmly again. ‘Don’t worry, tiger. I like initiating virgins. We’ll take it nice and slow. Figure out what works. It’s all about your pleasure, after all.’

  My throat is closing up now and my cock feels like it’s having convulsions down there, under her none too gentle grip.

  All about my pleasure, eh? Too fucking right. I’m going to be a Dominant. It is ALL about my pleasure.

  ‘What’s the matter—cat got your tongue?’ she purrs. ‘That’s not fair. I want it.’

  Then she fucking leans in and eats my face. The force of her almost knocks me off my stool. Her tongue is in my mouth—everywhere. It’s circling around and around as her hands grab my head and pull me into her face. It’s the most aggressive kiss I’ve ever experienced. My tongue can’t keep up and keeps clashing with hers. I can’t even breathe.

  I can’t think straight until she lets me go. Something doesn’t feel right. I didn’t think submissives were meant to be so bold. I should be taking the lead. I should dictate when and how the kissing is done.

  But she’s off her stool and she’s dry humping my leg. I study her, wondering which man she was with—was she with the man having the threesome or was she the woman on the lead? I can’t recall. She doesn’t look like any of them. None of them had red hair.

  Maybe she was observing like I was. Maybe I didn’t notice her. My attention had been directed by La Veuve Noire for the most part.

  ‘So what do you say? Shall we go and have some fun of our own?’ she asks, rubbing my cock as she grinds her groin against my leg.

  Fleetingly I remember my therapist’s words and my promise not to do anything until I saw her tonight. Well, it’s not my fault she’s not here, is it?

  She just wanted me to take the time to think things over and decide what I wanted. I’ve done that. I’m sure she’d be pleased. I know exactly what I want. Surely, she’d be proud of me for going and getting it.

  Suddenly, I can’t wait to get out the back. Not only to get laid but to be able to turn up at her flat tomorrow morning and report that I’ve made such fantastic progress. She’s going to be so pleased with me.

  I’m off the stool like a shot. ‘Yeah, let’s do it.’

  She laughs as she leads me towards the back of the club saying, ‘Come on then, let’s see what you’ve got.’

  SHE TAKES US TO a little room. All there is inside is a bed. A wrought iron frame, I note. I wish I had some handcuffs so I could cuff her to them, like I’d seen last night. I wonder if I have to buy my own, or whether the club has some. I’ll ask tomorrow. I don’t need them tonight. To get started, until I know more about making women come, I’m going to get her to do all the work so I can’t tie her down. Like La Veuve Noire says, if a woman’s on top, she’s just as responsible for making herself come as the man. I can’t fail.

  She closes the door behind us. ‘Get naked,’ she says, her tone suddenly business-like.

  I’m not going to argue but again, I feel it should be me taking the lead. Then I realise I’m almost shitting myself so, for tonight, I’m going to let her carry on. But next time, she’s going to be jumping to my tune.

  I quickly take my clothes off. ‘Not bad,’ she says. ‘You work out, I see. Your stamina should be pretty good then, if you’re nice and fit.’

  I assume she’s ta
king about my long distance running so I grin.

  ‘Get on the bed,’ she says. ‘Lie down.’

  Oh yes. I don’t even have to tell her to get on top. She clearly knows what she’s doing. What a good little sub.

  She’s wearing rubbery looking trousers. I watch as she peels them down her legs. She’s not wearing any knickers. She’s waxed bare. I gulp.

  ‘It’s so hot inside those,’ she says. ‘It makes my pussy all hot and sweaty.’

  My mind thinks that’s kind of inappropriate but my cock lurches for all its worth. I’m sure it’s because of the thought of a hot pussy, that’s all.

  She puts her feet back into her ridiculously high heels. There’s something incredibly horny about fucking a woman with her shoes on. My mates talk about it all the time.

  I swallow as she crawls on the bed, keeping the tight, rubbery looking tunic top on. She crawls up the bed until her pussy is almost over my face. I’m mesmerised. Totally. She takes my arms and pulls them up behind my head. I don’t really take much notice. I mean, come on . . . there’s a pussy practically winking at me. I can smell it too. Maybe she wasn’t kidding about those rubber trousers making her hot.

  I hear a click. Followed closely by another. I tear my attention away from her not-so-hidden treasure for a second, to see what she’s doing but when I try to move my arm, I find I can’t. I pull the other. It’s stuck as well. Then I see what she’s done. She’s cuffed me to the bed.

  Confusion reigns. I can’t understand why she’d be cuffing me to the bed. She’s the sub. But I’m so inexperienced, more than a little tipsy and eager to fuck that I don’t suppose it matters, just this once. As long as she’s going to bounce that pretty, little pussy on my cock, what’s the harm?

  She slides back down my body and I’m distracted again. She turns around and leans forward so that I’m given an amazing view of her bare arse and then, as she leans forward a little more, I can see her slit. It’s quite a view, I can tell you. I hear two more clicks and I know what she’s done. She’s handcuffed my ankles to the foot of the bed.

  Oh well, she can’t expect me to perform much now, can she? There’s not a lot you can do when you can barely move. I can thrust a little but that’s about it. This really will be all up to her.

  She climbs down from the bed and bends down. I can hear faint noises. I lift my head but I can’t see what she’s doing.

  Finally, she stands. She’s holding something, but I can’t see what. She crawls back up the bed and grabs my cock.

  ‘Time to start your training, tiger,’ she says, but her voice doesn’t sound the same. It sounds harsh. Hairs on the back of my neck stand up but that’s more than can be said for my cock. It doesn’t know what to do. It has a semi-naked woman grabbing a hold of it, sure—instant boner—but a combination of that voice and the firm hold she has is making it reconsider.

  It feels like she’s rolling something on my cock. If it’s a condom, it’s way too small. I’m not bragging or anything but—

  ‘Ouch! What the hell are you doing?’ It feels like my cock’s in a vice.

  Slap!

  The bitch backhands me across the face. I’m so shocked that I can’t speak. My cheek burns and I feel so humiliated. I want to get out of here now. I don’t like this—she’s clearly fucking mad.

  ‘Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you fucking maggot. Have some fucking respect,’ she cries, grabbing hold of my balls and squeezing so hard, I’m sure they’re going to pop.

  Pain sears through them and into the pit of my stomach. I pull hard against my restraints as I cry out.

  What the fuck is going on?

  I open my mouth to demand that she stops whatever it is she’s doing but, just in time, I realise how vulnerable I am, shackled to the bed and how pissed off she got last time I spoke.

  Instead, I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe through the pain. I feel sick.

  I hear a slight whoosh and then hear a slap as pain sears through my already aching balls. My eyes fly open. She’s sitting over me with a demonic look on her face and a weird thing in her hand.

  ‘Right, today’s lesson is to learn how to control pain. There are two ways that you can achieve this. Firstly, you can try to keep your cock still and try to keep it soft. Secondly, if you fail the first part, you can take deep breaths. With each in-breath, breathe the pain in and away from the actual site of the pain. Then, you blow the pain away when you release the breath.’

  She looks immensely proud of herself. I haven’t got a fucking clue what she’s on about. She raises her hand and I can’t help myself.

  ‘Stop. Please stop. I think there’s been a mistake. I don’t want any lessons on controlling pain. I don’t want any pain.’

  She frowns. ‘But Veuve said that you were about to begin your submissive journey.’

  What?

  I shake my head. ‘No, you’ve got it wrong. I don’t want to be a submissive—I want a submissive.’

  She looks at me like I’ve just said something really stupid. Then she laughs. It’s not pleasant. She sounds deranged.

  ‘You? Take a submissive?’ She laughs again. ‘Oh God, that’s a good one. You’re about as dominant as a slug.’

  Indignation boils in my heated blood. ‘You’re wrong. You are so wrong. I’m going to learn.’

  Her face changes. The poisonous sneer is replaced by something far more deadly. ‘You can’t learn to be a Dominant when you’re naturally submissive, you fool. Only a naturally dominant man can become a Dominant and yes, he has to learn the ropes.’

  I frown, not following her logic.

  She sighs in exasperation before grabbing my cock. ‘See this?’

  I look down and nod.

  ‘What do you notice?’

  Is that a trick question? ‘You’re holding my cock.’

  She clicks her tongue in annoyance. ‘Your cock is hard. Now unless you know nothing at all about the lifestyle . . . ’

  She pauses and narrows her eyes. I can almost see the light bulb going off over her head.

  ‘You don’t know anything, do you?’

  I shake my head. How can she not know this? She said herself that I was a BDSM virgin.

  ‘Oh dear. You’ve got quite a shock coming to you, tiger.’ She’s grinning now like a demented clown. I can see she’s in her element.

  ‘A Dominant wouldn’t be lying here with a hard-on. He wouldn’t allow himself to be cuffed to a bed. He would never have followed me in here at all.’

  I knew something wasn’t right. She’s openly mocking me and it’s making me feel like crap.

  I feel her hand squeeze my cock. It flexes under her hand and immediately, pain flares.

  ‘You like this, don’t you?’ she asks, although I doubt very much she’s going to listen to my reply.

  I simply shake my head.

  ‘I put a nice cock ring on you. It’s not just the practicalities of that that’s keeping you hard—I didn’t put it at the base. You like it. You like that I’m in control and you like the little bit of pain you feel when your cock twitches and the little pins on the inside of the ring stick into your cock. You may as well admit it, the evidence is right here in front of you.’

  My expression must be blank although all I can think about is the fact that there are little pins digging into my cock, because she rolls her eyes.

  ‘You don’t even know about cock rings?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘Fucking hell. What is La Veuve doing bringing you into a place like this? I think she’s finally lost her mind.’ Her expression changes. ‘Oh. I see. You’re one of her patients, aren’t you? That’s why you’re here.’

  For some reason, I feel defensive. Of my therapist. Of the situation. I shake my head. ‘No. I came here by myself to find out more. I got talking to her at the bar and she said she’d show me around. Show me a whole load of possibilities.’

  She didn’t look like she believed me. ‘Why bother? There’s only one possibilit
y you should be bothering with. La Veuve’s obviously going soft.’

  My defensiveness ratchets up another notch. ‘No she’s not. She said I should watch and work out what floats my boat. And I did.’

  ‘Yeah, and you decided you were a Dominant. Like I say, a complete waste of time. You’ve no more dominance in you than a fairy,’ she sneers. ‘Face it, love. You’re a submissive through and through. That’s the only role you can play in this lifestyle. You can’t even be a sissy too . . . unless that’s something you’re hiding, but I doubt it.’

  I shake my head. ‘I’d like you to remove these cuffs now please.’

  She smiles. A slow, haughty smile that tells me that I’m in trouble.

  ‘Oh no. I’ll show you just how submissive you are. And don’t look so worried. I’m doing you a favour. You need to lose the bollocks in your head that says you’re a Dominant. You can never be a Dominant. With training though, you could be a submissive at my feet. You have a great body. You have a nice face. You have a decent cock. I can teach you the rest.’

  My stomach churns at the thought. ‘No, thank you. I’d better get going anyway. I’m supposed to be meeting La Veuve Noire—’

  ‘She left.’

  She couldn’t look more pleased with herself if she tried.

  ‘I don’t think she’d be happy with me . . . being here . . . with you.’

  She stands. ‘Well, you should have thought about that before you made an agreement with me. It’s frowned upon heavily, you know. You break an agreement here and it’s enough to get you barred from the place. There are rules.’

  I frown. She can’t be serious. ‘I didn’t make an agreement with you.’

  She smiles another sickly smile. ‘Yes you did. At the bar.’

  ‘I agreed to come out back with you. That’s all. I’ve had enough. I want to leave. Please?’

  ‘You’re begging me . . . that’s an extremely submissive trait, you know. A Dominant would never beg. And, for your information, agreeing to come out here with me is taken as an agreement here. I’m a Dominant. You began to submit to me the second you accepted my offer. Now you will stay here until you complete your submission.’