by L. DuBois
“Yes, Sir.”
He dropped the towel and she got the first good look at his naked body. He was lean, with intensely muscled thighs and ass. He didn’t have six pack abs, but he was trim. There was a long white scar on his shoulder blade.
“What happened to your shoulder, Sir?”
He took out a pair of boxer briefs, looked at her consideringly, then put the briefs back. He pulled out a pair of camel-colored slacks and pulled them on, fastening them with a brown leather belt with a worn, matte look.
“I had a rotator cuff injury that required surgery.”
“Ouch.”
“Quite.”
“What happened?”
He pulled on a white dress shirt and turned to her. He’d left it unbuttoned and it was somehow sexier than no shirt. “That’s a rather personal question.”
Charlie jerked as if he’d smacked her. She swallowed and nodded. “Of course, Sir.”
“Stand up. Let me see this rather intriguing dress.”
Still smarting from the reprimand—though she shouldn’t be—Charlie stood.
He rolled up his sleeves with precise movements as he looked her over. When he had two crisply rolled cuffs, he approached her. Without hesitation he reached out and slid his fingers between the edges of the fabric on her side.
“What happened when all these clasps are undone?”
“The dress falls off, Sir.”
He inhaled slowly, a grin curling the corners of his mouth. “And the lower band hobbles your legs.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Her nipples were so hard that the scrape of fabric against them was almost painful. Every breath she took was sweet stimulation.
“An elegant garment. I will have to compliment Mae.”
“It’s custom,” she blurted out, wanting to say something.
“I can tell. The way it fits you is nothing short of glorious.” His pupils dilated. “And I like how accessible it will make your breasts and pussy.”
Charlie went weak at the knees. She had to fight the urge to jump Master Green, wrap her legs around him, and kiss him. That was something people in vanilla relationships could do. There were several reasons she couldn’t.
First, this was far from vanilla. The right to initiate anything was one of the things a submissive gave up.
Second, this wasn’t a relationship, at least not in that connotation of the word. This was a Master/sub relationship—not a relationship relationship.
“To your punishment.”
Charlie shivered as he walked to the dresser. He perused the contents of one drawer. She’d told him she didn’t enjoy gagging, uncomfortable bondage, or ice. She doubted there was ice in that drawer, which meant it was either a drawer full of rope or gags.
He turned around, one hand raised, showing off the ball gag. It was a simple one—two black straps emerging from a white waffle-style ball. The holes in it meant it would be easier for her to breathe than if it had been the classic solid red ball, but it also meant she’d end up drooling on herself and every little noise she made would be clearly audible.
Charlie grimaced.
Master Green brought the gag over and tapped it against her lips. Reluctant, but obedient, she opened her mouth. He pressed the ball gag in until it was settled behind her teeth. The upper curve was nestled against the roof of her mouth, while the bottom forced her tongue back.
With hard, commanding movements, Master Green fastened the strap at the back of her neck. He pulled her hair out from under the strap and then stroked her head. She nuzzled against him, wanting some comfort.
“You really don’t like the gag, do you?”
Charlie screwed up her face and shook her head.
“Yet it has clearly helped you find a submissive state of mind.”
She grimaced again. It was true, and she hated that he’d figured that out. Now he’d probably keep her gagged. There was something about having a Dom force her to do something she didn’t like that was so perverse and taboo that it always made her feel her submission in a more fundamental way.
“Shall we?” He offered her his arm, as if they were walking into a ballroom instead of out into the public spaces of a BDSM club.
Charlie laced her arm through his. Her steps were slightly restricted by the dress, but he took small, deliberate steps, matching her pace. Usually she liked to look around the various courtyards of the club, or into the doors of playrooms that were deliberately left open. But this time she kept her chin up, walking proudly at his side, as if she were his queen.
Her imagination needed to cool it.
He led her to the Sub Rosa Court. A canopy of climbing roses provided perfumed shade to the courtyard. The playrooms that opened off this court were all named after rose breeds and were designed to look like rooms in a house. The room they’d been in last night was really a bedroom, slightly modified to allow for play. These were playrooms modified to allow for sleep.
Considering how much Master Green had been able to do to her in one of the nondescript rooms, she was slightly terrified to think what he’d be able to do in a well-equipped playroom.
There was a scene in progress in the center of the courtyard—a sub strung up and being flogged with a velvet cat-o-nine. Aram led them to an unoccupied chair. There was a small table set in front of the chair. Cushions in the corner were available so subs could kneel beside their Doms without having to kneel on the gravel or dirt.
Charlie paused, waiting to see if he would order her to get a cushion.
Master Green crooked his finger. Charlie carefully moved between his spread knees. He undid the clasp on the band at her upper thighs. He lifted the fabric, looking at her naked sex. He tapped her mound with two fingers, then dipped one between the lips of her pussy.
With his gaze on hers, he licked his finger, tasting her. She shivered.
“One more, I think.” He undid the clasp at her hip. “Get a cushion and put it on the table. Then kneel, knees spread wide so everyone can see that sweet, wet pussy.”
Charlie’s knees were shaking as she went to get a cushion. Once the thin layer of padding was in place, she knelt facing her Dom, carefully positioning herself so her knees were spread to the edges of the table. The dress fell open, leaving her bare from the waist down.
“Lovely.” He leaned back in his seat. He looked around then crooked his finger at an unattached sub. The sub, one of the few male subs, knelt at his side. Master Green whispered to him, and the sub nodded and left.
He returned his attention to Charlie. After a moment his expression shifted from satisfied to contemplative. “You look incredibly lovely right now, Charlotte.”
She couldn’t say thank-you, so she merely ducked her chin in a nod of thanks, hoping the drool that had pooled in her mouth didn’t leak out.
“The sunlight is making your hair glow. That gown is nearly transparent in the sunlight. I can see your nipples quite clearly. I could imagine you as some pretty little slave girl, sold into a harem far from your homeland.”
Charlie shivered as she imagined that—Master Green her merciless owner, entranced by her pale beauty.
“A bit stereotypical, and ancient Armenia hardly has a history of purchasing slaves from Western Europe.” He shrugged one shoulder. “But we’re not here to be politically correct, are we?”
She shook her head.
He steepled his fingers in that way that made him look like a Bond villain. “Most of us here, including myself, are staunch feminists outside of Las Palmas. Only in these walls would I consider it acceptable to order a woman to kneel before me.” He leaned forward, settling his hand on her thigh. “To order her to keep her legs spread so I can look at and touch her sex whenever I want.” His fingers slid up her thigh to her pussy. He stroked her labia, then pinched her clit lightly.
Charlie panted through the gag, looking at him frantically. She would come if he kept that up. Could she?
He shook his head once, smiling.
She g
lared at him.
His smile dropped.
Oops. Bad idea.
“We’ll begin on our first item. That’s eye contract restriction. For the rest of our playtime you will keep your eyes lowered. You will be perfectly submissive—eyes lowered, mouth gagged, body mine to use as I please. Is that understood?”
Charlie lowered her eyes, staring at the cushion between her spread thighs. She nodded.
“A good start. But I want this to be a challenge.”
It was already a challenge. If she couldn’t talk or look at him, she had no way to communicate with him.
She saw bare legs approach. The male sub had returned, and handed things to Master Green. She wanted to look up, wanted to see what it was. Maybe she could sneak a peek.
Master Green stroked her thigh. “I know this is hard, Charlie. You’re doing well.”
And just like that, all thoughts of disobedience died.
“Arms up.”
Charlie raised her arms, lacing her fingers together behind her head. Master Green stroked the underside of her arm—the fatty part, ugh.
He ran the flat of his hand over her breasts, his palm just skimming the tips of her nipples. Charlie groaned and arched into his hand. She was desperate for his touch.
His fingers danced over to her side, and he released the topmost clasp of the dress. The upper band loosened then fell, skimming her nipples as it did. Charlie gasped and arched her back, her naked breasts raised toward him. She could feel the warm sunlight on her bare skin.
“You want me to play with these sweet nipples.” He traced his fingers around her areola.
Charlie nodded desperately.
“Very well.”
With her gaze lowered she was able to see as he dropped to one knee and leaned toward her. His lips closed around her nipple and she panted through the gag.
He took her nipple between his teeth and licked the very tip. The touch was so precise it sent fine lines of pleasure arrowing through her torso to her pussy. Her whole sex pulsed in response, and she could feel a fresh swell of moisture.
A line of saliva slipped from her lips, landing on her chest. She made a noise of distress. She was drooling. Drooling wasn’t sexy.
Master Green looked up. Their gazes met. He quirked a brow.
Charlie started, then dropped her gaze from his and closed her eyes.
“Better,” he murmured. “But I want you to watch this.”
She tentatively opened her eyes, looking at her breasts. He held up a clover clamp.
Charlie whimpered.
“Yes, pet. You will wear these.” He put the clamp down on the cushion, then fished something out of his pocket. It was a two-foot length of thin chain. He reached up and fed one end of the chain through two of the holes in her gag, so the chain dangled from the white ball.
What was he doing?
He plucked the nipple that had just been in his mouth. He twisted and pinched her, then bounced the full weight of her breasts on his palm.
“Deep breath,” he said. Pinching her nipple one last time, he raised the clover clamp and placed it on her nipple, behind the tip.
She yelped at the bite of pain, closing her eyes. Pain was pleasure, pleasure pain. She was his to command, to use. He wanted her in pain, wanted her nipples held in the cruel clamps. The thought was a mantra running through her head. That was what made this okay. No, better than okay. That was what made this sexy.
He bent his head to her other breast, sucking her nipple lovingly before applying the second clamp. The contrast between the pain in one nipple and the gentle heat of his mouth on the other was delicious and confusing.
She moaned and closed her eyes so she could tip her head back. The warm sunlight hit her face, reminding her that she was outside, that she was kneeling with her pussy spread, her breasts abused, in full view of other people.
Another layer to her submission—and to her arousal.
He turned the clamps so they pointed up, the smooth ends turning easily against her compressed nipples. Taking the end of the chain dangling from her gag, he attached it to the clamp. “Lower your chin.”
Charlie obeyed, looking down at her breasts, her nipples held in delicious cruelty by the clamps. He tugged the chain taut, then hooked the end of the other clamp to another one of the links.
Oh no.
Charlie held her breath as she realized that if she moved her head at all she would pull on the chain. Clover clamps were designed to tighten as pressure was applied to them.
“Charlotte.” His voice was steel wrapped in velvet—smooth but unyielding. “Raise your chin. Keep your eyes lowered, but lift your chin.”
She raised her chin a faction of an inch, just enough to feel the tension in the chain.
The end of a crop came into view. He tucked it under her chin. “Higher, Charlotte.”
She whimpered and raised her chin another fraction of an inch. The clamps tightened on her nipples. She moaned.
“I’ll give you a choice. Would you rather have me crop the underside of your breasts or your pussy?”
Pussy. She wanted, needed some stimulation, even if it was the bite of a crop.
“You may lower one hand, and point to where you want to be cropped.”
Moving slowly so she wouldn’t jostle her breasts, Charlie lowered her right arm and pressed her pointer finger against her mound.
“Lovely. Why don’t you spread your pussy open for me.”
It wasn’t really a question. She whimpered and did as he ordered. She slid her index and ring fingers between her labia, then spread them. She was so wet that she couldn’t spread much before her labia slipped from under her fingers.
“That’s enough. And Charlie, if you need to safe-word, make a fist with your left hand.”
She watched as the folded flap of leather at the end of the crop approached her pussy. She held her breath, desperate for that first touch. He stroked her clit, the leather sliding, smoothing over the pearl at the top of her pussy. She grunted, hunching forward. She was so aroused the touch was almost too much.
Master Green reached out and pushed her hand away, then brought the crop up on her pussy in three hard smacks. She screamed around the gag as the leather cracked against her.
“Chin up,” he barked.
Charlie jerked her chin up, forgetting about the chain. The clamps compressed her nipples and yanked them up, until the weight of her breasts dangled from her nipples.
“Show me your left hand.”
Charlie raised her hand from the back of her head, showing him her splayed fingers and flat palm. It hurt, everything hurt, but it was so, so good.
“Kneel up.”
She trembled a little as she shifted. Master Green undid the final two clasps of her dress, the one below her breasts and the one at her waist. The fabric slithered down her body and slipped to the floor, leaving her totally naked.
Charlie heard the murmur of voices. She knew there were other people around. Were they watching her now? She didn’t dare look up to find out.
He was on his feet, circling her. He cropped her ass, first one cheek then the other. Then he was back to her pussy, bringing the crop up in short, hard underhand strikes.
She didn’t know how much longer she could handle this. Her nipples were burning with pain, her jaw ached, and her pussy was throbbing.
There was a clatter as Master Green dropped the crop. “Charlie.” Trembling, she made sure her posture was perfect, returning her right hand to the back of her head. Her back was straight, her thighs spread. She raised her chin another fraction of an inch, tears threatening.
“Show me your left hand.”
She slowly raised it, her fingers curled slightly.
“Brace yourself.”
That was the only warning she got before he bent and released the clamp on her left nipple. She screamed as the blood returned with a rush of pain. Aram’s lips closed around her nipple—manipulating it, soothing it with his tongue and lips.
>
She panted when he raised his mouth. She knew what was coming, but couldn’t stop the scream as he released the other clamp. But his lips were there. He had a hand on her left breast, too, his thumb firmly against her nipple.
What had been pain was now a heavy, warm ache. He’d given her pain. He’d commanded her to accept that pain, because it pleased him.
Now she needed the other side of the coin.
“Step off, that’s right.” Master Green stayed on his knees as she slid off the table. His position meant she had to put her feet down on either side of his body, her legs spread wide. She kept her eyes submissively lowered.
He reached up and released the gag. “Now I want you to lie back. Let your head hang off the edge.”
Charlie lowered herself to sit on the table. He held her by the waist, keeping her steady. She lay back, her shoulders on the far edge, her head hanging off. She closed her eyes and golden sunlight filtered through her lids.
“Hold on to the sides of the table,” he murmured.
She was laid out naked before him, her legs spread wide, her ass at the edge of the table.
Fingers caressed her pussy, and then his mouth was on her, his tongue dancing along her pussy lips, settling on her clit. He worked her with sure, rhythmic licks. He kept up a steady rhythm, firm yet soft.
Her abused nipples danced as she arched and moaned. Even that bit of movement felt like a caress of the abused buds, and pleasure lanced from her breasts to her pussy.
“Master, please, may I…” she moaned as her pussy clenched.
“Yes, come whenever you’re ready.”
That was exactly what she needed to hear. He’d abused her, and now he was rewarding her.
Feeling perverse, Charlie fought the orgasm a little, arching her hips a bit when she got close. She wanted his attention longer, wanted his tongue on her for another minute.
He grew wise to her game and wrapped his arms over her legs, holding her down.
The relentless, steady strokes on her clit wound her tighter and tighter until she couldn’t hold it back. She came, screaming between clenched teeth.
Aram surged up, scooting her ass toward him a half an inch. Then his cock was at her entrance. Charlie’s eyes were still closed, her head bent. She lay there open and willing, needy and obedient.
