by Nikki Chase
But right now, the way his eyes are fixated on me makes it easy to pretend.
“Are you scared?” he whispers as he puts his hand on the base of my skull and presses his forehead against mine.
“Yes.” I nod. “Yes, Sir.”
“See? You’re starting to remember, and I haven’t even had to punish you yet. It’s already working.” He smiles. “There’s no need to be scared.”
“Are you going to whip me like the girls on stage, Sir?” I ask.
“Not unless you want me to. Do you?”
“No, Sir.” I shake my head.
“I trust the club has told you about the safe words?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Say ‘red’ if you want me to stop entirely and ‘yellow’ if you want to take a short break,” he says, his thumb brushing over my lips as he speaks.
His skin feels so good I can’t help but kiss his thumb. When he slides it slightly past my open lips, I take it in and lick it like it’s a cock.
He groans. “I’m trying to take things slow and be gentle with you, kitten, but you’re making it hard for me to do that.”
I open my mouth to let him take his thumb out if he wants. Looking at him from underneath my lashes, I say, “I’m sorry, Sir. I’ll stop.”
He studies at me. “Are you sure this is your first night?”
“Yes, Sir,” I answer, even though I’m not sure what I said to make him think I’m a liar.
“As I was saying, this is all about being in the right state of mind. And the way you took me into your mouth just now tells me you’re already there.” He pulls on the tie around his neck and takes it off. Putting the silky strip of fabric over my eyes, he says, “Just keep doing what you’re doing now. You’re perfect.”
My breath catches. I know he doesn’t even know me, but nobody’s ever called me “perfect” before.
The tie’s still warm from his body heat, and it feels weirdly intimate to have his musky scent fill my nose.
With my sight gone, all I can sense is him. I hear his footsteps circling around me. I can still taste his finger in my mouth. My hyper-sensitive nerve endings spark with excitement as his hand rests on my bare waist and guides me to the bed.
He’s taking care of me by carefully making sure I get to the bed without tripping on the carpet on the way. At the same time, he’s the one who deprived me of my sight so it shouldn’t count . . . right?
He lays me down on the bed. The bedsheets feel soft on my skin. I don’t have much time to appreciate it, though, because I feel the bed dip to the side and realize he’s climbed in with me.
I can feel the heat emanating from his body. It fills me with anticipation.
A large, masculine hand grabs my waist and travels up my side. “You’re the sexiest little thing I’ve ever seen,” he says as he scoots closer until his chest presses against my side.
He takes my mouth, kissing me with a bruising force. As if he’s trying to drive me crazy with the contrast, his fingers lightly graze over my stomach, the valley between my breasts, and my shoulder.
He slips one hand under my back and unhooks my bra. He pulls it off me and leans back, breaking the kiss. For a few anxious seconds, he stays quiet and I wonder if he doesn’t like my tits.
Then, I feel his stubble and his breath on my chest as he rubs his face against me–I guess he likes them, after all.
My arousal climbs when his hand travels south and grabs my inner thigh, his fingernails dragging across my skin, showing me how much he wants me.
“Your face is all red, kitten,” he says, chuckling as he grabs me roughly, enveloping my sex with his hand. “I wonder why.”
I’m sure he’s telling the truth. My face—my whole body, in fact, feels almost unbearably hot. I’m burning up. My heart rate is through the roof. And my clit’s throbbing furiously.
Then, he takes a nipple into his warm, wet mouth, which injects another dose of pure pleasure into my system.
I try to restrain myself, but I can’t help it. He’s too close and everything feels too good for me not to want more. My hips rock against his palm, lifting up off the bed and obscenely rubbing against him.
“You want to come, kitten?” he asks.
I bite down on my bottom lip. “Yes, Sir.” I want nothing more than to come.
“You’re not allowed to come unless I say so.”
I whimper. It’s really starting to feel good. Do I actually have to stop?
“Do you hear me, kitten?” he asks.
Ignoring him, I move faster, chasing the release that’s almost within my reach. Then, he takes his hand away.
“Obviously, you didn’t listen to my instructions,” he says darkly. “I’m sorry, kitten, but I’ll have to punish you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I freeze, suddenly forgetting about my ruined orgasm. Did he say what kind of punishment he’s going to give me?
Smack! He doesn’t give me a chance to ask before his palm lands on my pussy. I cry out as the sting prickles my skin.
“Aren’t you going to tell me you’re sorry? You really liked saying that before,” he says mockingly.
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
“Good girl.” His fingers trace the shape of my lips over my panties. The heat left by the light slap he gave me intensifies the tingles in my core, making me grow even wetter.
He hooks his thumb into the waist of my black panties, and I lift my hips off the bed to let him slide them off me.
Thoughts of impropriety have vanished from my mind. All I can think about is getting him to let me come.
I can’t stand this state of heightened, frustrating arousal much longer, and I know I won’t get any satisfaction unless I come at his hands.
“Please . . .” I hear myself say.
“Please what?” he asks in a voice dripping with want. He acts like he’s unaffected, but I can feel hints of his need in the urgency of his touch.
Smack! Without any warning, his hand hits my pussy again, making me yelp.
“And please who?” he asks.
“Please make me come, Sir.” I speak quickly, not because I’m afraid he’s going to hit me again, but because I’m terrified he’ll find me too defiant and walk away, leaving me hanging.
I’m almost certain that would haunt me for the rest of my life because what’s happening now is the most intense sexual experience I’ve ever had. I won’t forgive myself if I ruin it.
Even if I’ll never see this man again, even if I don’t understand this strong, magnetic pull toward him, I need him to finish me tonight. That’s all I know. That’s what every cell in my body tells me.
“You want to come, kitten?” he asks in a deep voice that reverberates all the way to my bones.
“Yes, Sir. Please,” I beg. I don’t care anymore if it makes me look pathetic. My world is darkness and this man—nothing else.
“I’m only going to make you come if you agree I can do it any way I want,” he whispers in my ear. As he drags his lips down my throat, his fingers slide back and forth over my pussy lips, which are slick with my wetness.
“Yes,” I say without thinking twice. “I mean, yes, Sir. Please. Anything.”
“Little slut,” he says, his words shocking me with their bluntness. Taking my nipple between his teeth, he teases me with his tongue, making me writhe underneath him. Two of his fingers push inside me. “You’re so wet and ready, kitten. I have to fuck you. I have to.”
“Please, fuck me, Sir.” That’s exactly what I want.
“I will.” His thumb finds my clit, and he teases me into a frenzy, making me moan and clutch the sheets in desperation. “But first, I want to hear you say it. Say you’re my little slut and you’ll do anything I want.”
My muscles clench around his fingers. The words he wants me to say . . . They’re so dirty, so nasty.
And yet, I can’t deny that at this point, I will do anything he wants. Including saying those words.
“I’m your little s
lut,” I say breathlessly. “I’ll do anything you want, Sir.”
“Such a good girl,” he says as his hand rubs my head roughly, messing up my hair. “Such a good girl. I have to fuck you. I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re going to feel me for days.”
“Please do, Sir.” I gasp when he pulls on my hair.
“Open your legs for me,” he orders. “Wider.”
As I follow his demands, I find myself slowly feeling more exposed and vulnerable. The thrill magnifies all the delicious sensations I’m feeling—the coarse stubble and soft lips on my breasts, the hand in my hair, and the insistent fingers sliding in and out of my pussy.
“Good girl.” He pulls his fingers out of me completely, leaving me feeling empty. “Now, I want you to play with yourself.”
It makes me feel self-conscious, knowing every inch of me is exposed to his gaze, when I can’t even see anything. It makes me feel powerless.
And I don’t know if it’s an innate instinct because I can’t explain it, but my helplessness makes me want to submit to him.
So even though I’ve only ever done this in private, I inch my hand down my stomach and between my legs, knowing he’s watching.
I’ve always felt like the way I masturbate is weird, so I’ve never shown anyone. But in front of this man, I feel like there’s no place to hide. I pinch the hood of my clit lightly with my thumb and index finger, and start rubbing.
“Good girl,” he says. “Don’t come.”
“Yes, Sir.” My cheeks heat up when I remember the way I almost came earlier, even though he told me not to.
My heart pounds as I feel him move between my legs. He gets on top of me and hovers over me, pressing his hot, hard cock against my pussy lips.
Before I even know what I’m doing, my hand finds his shaft and wraps around its erect length. He’s big—threateningly so.
And I was right; he’s just as desperate for release as I am. I can feel it in the pulsing of his cock.
My thumb runs over the tip, which is already slippery with pre-cum, and I feel his shudder.
“Fuck,” he curses in a hoarse voice. “I was going to take this slow, but you’re making it impossible, kitten.”
I smile as my fingers tighten around his cock and start stroking him. His ragged breathing spurs me on. I wonder if it’s the fact that he’s powerful or the fact that he’s a strange that makes me want him so much.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” he says in a gravelly voice.
I hear the sound of plastic being ripped. I lie back and open myself up for him while I wait for him to presumably put on a condom.
When I feel his cock at my opening, I shift myself downward to take in more of him. He chuckles—I can only assume he enjoys watching me squirm, begging for him to fuck me.
And then, he pushes forward. Gradually, he stretches me and lodged himself deep inside me.
I reach up to grip his strong arms, feeling his body strain as he fucks me. He’s all hard sinews and muscles. This body has been sculpted by discipline—quite possibly the kind that borders on obsession.
“You feel so good, kitten. Fuck.” He pulls my hair as he curses, exposing my neck so he can kiss me and nibble on my sensitive skin.
I start to shudder. I’m still sensitive from the first interrupted orgasm and from all the teasing. I can already feel my climax coming.
“You’re tightening up, kitten. Are you about to come?” he asks.
“Yes, Sir,” I moan.
“Not yet,” he says. “You’re not allowed to come yet.”
I want to protest, but it takes everything I’ve got to stop myself from reaching the peak. Everything feels so good, too good for me not to go over the edge.
When my Dom grabs my hips, I know I’m in trouble. The angle lets him get deeper inside me. I try to squirm away, afraid I’m going to come, but his grip is strong and unyielding.
“Don’t come yet.” He pounds into me, putting his body weight into every thrust. His movements make me slide up the bed, until he puts his hand on my head and pulls on my hair.
I tense up, putting all my effort into delaying the deluge of orgasm that’s about to wash over me.
“Good girl,” he says as he fucks me hard, using my body for his pleasure.
“Please, Sir . . . I can’t stand it . . .”
“You want to come?” he asks.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours, Sir. I’m all yours.”
“Then come,” he says. “Come for me.”
At his command, I let the floodgates open. My orgasm crashes hard and fast over me, making me lose control of my own body, my legs shaking involuntarily.
He comes with a roar, burying himself deep inside my pussy. Our bodies writhe together as we squeezing every little drop of pleasure we can from each other.
My Dom strokes my hair lovingly as we come down from our shared peak. “That was amazing, kitten,” he says before he pulls out of me.
“Can I see your face, Sir?” I ask. I don’t know if that’s an inappropriate question to ask in this club, but I can’t let him go without asking. The curiosity would plague me forever.
“Maybe next time,” he says. “I’ll find you again, kitten. Be patient.”
I hear the door open and close.
Wait, what? Is he out already?
I pull the tie off my head to find myself in an empty room.
He’s gone.
I just let a masked stranger I don’t even know fuck me.
The only thing he left is the navy-blue necktie he used as my blindfold.
Oh, and the money on the nightstand.
Adam
One Year Later
“Can you just tell me if she’s still working there? You’ve been giving me the run-around for months, telling me to just keep coming in case I see her. Is this what I pay such a high membership fee for?” I ask, my voice growing louder and louder as I lose my cool.
This is not right.
I’ve been looking for Katie for a whole year, and I still can’t find her.
Maybe I should’ve gotten her phone number, or at least her full name. Remembering how she was with me, I don’t think she would’ve said no.
I’ve beaten myself up over this fact many times over the past year. But to be fair, I had no idea it was going to be impossible to find her again.
As it turns out, the most exclusive club in the city keeps the place a secret from most people by hiring tight-lipped staff. It’s only reasonable. As a businessman, I can see the logic behind it.
But as a man who’s looking for the most perfect girl he’s ever met, I can’t accept the club’s decision to remain quiet in the face of my desperation.
I’ve been coming to The Succubus all the time, looking for her.
On weekends, I’m here. On weeknights, if I can slip away from the office early, I come here before driving myself home, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.
Where the fuck is she?
I’ve asked people at the club multiple times, but I’ve gotten no answers. Apparently, nobody knows any Katie who works there.
I’ve been told every excuse in the book. They tell me I have the wrong name; she’s a guest and not an employee; and she may not even work there anymore.
All those answers are possible, of course. That’s one of the most infuriating thing about this. I don’t know which one is the truth.
At this point, I’m even starting to doubt the whole thing even happened. Maybe it was just my imagination.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” says Kendra, the woman in charge of the waitresses. She stands behind her little desk, probably feeling safe with the two bouncers standing beside her. She adds, “I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“Why don’t you start by telling me if you’ve ever had a girl named Katie on your staff?” I drop my palms on Kendra’s desk, knowing the bouncers won’t like that but not caring.
“I’m sorry, Sir. As
you know, anonymity is the most important thing for The Succubus. That doesn’t only apply to our guests, but it also extends to our staff members.”
“Let’s just get down to business.” I’m getting really tired of getting these vague non-answers. “How much do you want?”
“I’m sorry, Sir. I hope you’re not implying that I’ll sell you the information,” she says, giving me an unemotional, flat stare.
“All I’m saying is, I’ll do whatever it takes to get some information about Katie,” I say impatiently.
“Due to the nature of the job, many of our staff members prefer to maintain their privacy,” Kendra says. “That’s why we allow everyone to use whatever name they want. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Katie may not even be the real name of the person you’re looking for.”
“Thank you for your help,” I say sarcastically before I turn around and leave.
This is not the first time I’m told any of those things. But this is the last time.
I’m done begging at The Succubus. And I’m definitely done paying their extortionist fees.
Real name or not, I’m going to find this girl. If I can’t get any help from The Succubus, then they’re of no use to me.
The only thing I seek when I’m here these days is Katie—she’s the only one who’s ever been able to satisfy the dark cravings inside me, and now she’s all I want. She’s completely taken over my mind.
She said she was mine. I’m going to find her and make her remember that.
Adam
Two Years Later
“Dude, honestly, I don’t have any problems if you want to keep giving me free money, but I’m telling you this as a friend: for the sake of your sanity, stop doing this to yourself,” Sawyer says from across my desk.
My mom would be proud to know someone calls me a friend. She thinks I need friends the way she does, when in fact, I see people by the value they can give me.
Even though the main value of having Sawyer around was originally as a tool of finding Katie, it wouldn’t be inaccurate to call him a friend at this point.
