by Adira August
What - what was he doing to her? His finger touched something, and she gasped and - another finger joins the first… massaging, pressing, to pulse against …
Burning - the burning - her clit - no thoughts, just the burning, spreading up and into her, like electric fire, blistering heat that should be painful but somehow wasn’t - but it consumed her -
His fingers … they stroked and squeezed so subtle, so immense - a frisson of exquisite erotic lightning between her legs ignited the aching ring around her vagina, spread up through her core ...split and flowed to her womb, to her sphincter, spreading, growing, thickening, the burning urgent itching need, more than pain … consuming … pleasepleaseplease … his face against hers … holding her still, his hands, one relentless finger inside her … a distant screaming, keening … it was her … then he pressed … a rolling tsunami of sexual plasma along every nerve … her clit pulsing … bursting ... shooting ripples of energy through her core ... the feeling beyond … nothing, nothing but the pleasure ... again … again … again … again … Would she die?
When the tidal wave had finally begun to recede she’d found herself in the chair, somehow. Any thought of what had come before setting off another spasm, helpless to resist, her body undulating with the current.
She’d felt him put something cool between her thighs. A cold pack, she found out later. In the bathroom she’d seen the StagHart logo on the pack. Custom-designed to fit between a woman’s legs.
Leaning on the railing, the strengthening west wind cooling her still-heated body, she knew it wasn’t the orgasm that was life-altering. She’d never imagined in her wildest fantasies she could experience what she just had. She knew, in her essentially honest heart, that sex would be forever bland for her with anyone else. And she also knew, whatever she felt or thought about it and him, she’d do whatever he wanted to have that feeling again.
A thought beyond sobering. But not life-altering.
It was a realization had from a split-second in time (Feel me.) Overwhelmed by the level of - arousal was too tame a word - in her own body. Of too many strange new experiences in an odd and unfamiliar place. No way to get control of her thoughts, to escape his touch -
But he was there. Tall, strong, sure. Right where she needed him to be. And for one moment, she let herself totally submit. To him. In one moment, she surrendered everything to him. Before she could take it back, she was lost. Her whole being about what he was making her feel. Just as he said he could.
“The ability of the man restraining her, touching her, spanking her, to give her what she wants, the way she wants, for as long as she wants.”
What she knew for sure on this balcony, waiting for him to come through the door, was that there was only this one man she’d ever want to be with again. This … fucking billionaire she known a few hours. This man she half-hated for knowing how to do that to her and then doing it, was the one man she would forever feel totally safe with.
But if she had to let go of herself to be with him, what would be left?
What difference does it make Avia? You already know. You’ll be with him as long as he’ll have you. If he wants you.
Relieved to have accepted her choice, Avia turned to face the door to wait for him. But she found him already with her. At the table, with two, new bottles of water. His impassive mask in place.
“How long have you been there?”
“Maybe fifteen minutes,” he said.
They regarded one another for a long moment.
“I need to see you naked,” she said.
He barely hesitated before rising and setting the bottles aside. Stepping out from behind the table, he shrugged out of his suit coat, hanging it on the back of the chair. Then he stepped out of his shoes and lifted each foot to remove his socks. Doing it easily, gracefully.
“You do yoga,” she observed.
“I do, “ he admitted as he unbuttoned his shirt and cuffs.
He laid the shirt across the table and opened his belt. The white t-shirt came off next, revealing a wide muscular chest and tight abs. His body smoothly sculpted, muscles melded into one another. It was a lovely rolling landscape of a body she instantly longed to slide her palms over, or snuggle back into, in bed.
He opened his fly with one hand and, putting his hands on each side of his waistband, slid his trousers and underwear to the floor at the same time. He followed them, bending over to step out of each leg. He straightened, shaking out the trousers, and twisted around to lay them over the shirt the wind was trying to flip off the tabletop.
Twisted like that, the afternoon sun playing shadows along the lines of his legs and buttocks, compact waist and well-developed back, she was reminded of a marble statue she’d once seen. Something Greek? Roman? A discus thrower. Perfectly proportioned, his power waiting to be unleashed.
He faced her then, feet slightly apart. Hands at his sides. Unconcerned, unashamed. His head slightly to one side, observing her examining him.
He’s beautiful. Did he also have to be so fucking beautiful?
She knew from standing next to him he was an inch or so over six feet. His skin was burnished gold, where the sun had touched it. Lighter where his clothes covered him while … jogging, she decided. Not bicycling, his calves didn’t have the sharp lumpy muscles of a bicyclist.
But it was his cock that drew her attention and she was fine with him knowing that. Of course. Of course he has a beautiful cock, too.
It wasn’t a porn king monstrosity that hung halfway to his knees, and she was very grateful for that. It was straight and substantial, lying to the side against his thigh, terminating in a wide head with a well-defined coronal ridge.
“After you left me on the recliner, did you go somewhere and masturbate?” She asked.
He hesitated. Then, “Yes.”
As she scrutinized him, his cock thickened, rolled lazily over to lie against the heavy sack of his testicles. Avia smiled. Guess I’m not the only one who gets turned on by being stared at.
She gestured and he turned around, slowly. He had a strong, rounded ass. A fine ass to grab onto. Avia flashed to him on top of her, pulling him into her. Someday ...
“Okay, face me.” He did. “How long did you have the erection?”
“Since I unbuttoned your blouse.” He told her. His cock twitched again, lengthening, lifting away from his body.
What? “Continuously?”
“Yes.”
Seeing his semi-engorged cock seem to reach for her as he spoke about touching her, caused something tight inside Avia to relax. It wasn’t only me.
“Okay,” she said. And walked into the Keep.
THE DECISION
It took him a few minutes to redress and catch the mental breath he’d been holding. Okay. She said “okay.”
When he’d first returned to the Companions’ room and found it empty, his heart dropped - she’s gone. It happened. Some women simply could not deal with the anxiety of giving up so much control while having their nervous systems assaulted by the intensity of stimulation they experienced in the datamine. But he’d been confident Avia could.
Then a slight movement from outside caught his attention. The hem of her skirt in the breeze. She was turned away from him, leaning on the railing, looking west. He didn’t want to examine too closely the feeling of relief that flooded his body.
He grabbed two new bottles of Deep Rock from the bar fridge. She’d be dehydrated now.
Slipping quietly through the arched door, he took a seat at the cedar table. He didn’t want to disturb her. He’d wait. Wait for her to come to whatever conclusion she would, after struggling over whatever issues she had. Wait for her to process what he knew had been an unprecedented deluge of sensation and emotion.
Part of him wished she would talk to him about her concerns, let him help her sort her thoughts out. But that was the want-to-manipulate-her-into-following-his-desire part of his personality, that wished she’d conform to his agenda. And that would be
a very, very bad idea.
She had to choose freely. She had to accept her own feelings and acknowledge her own desires. She had to surrender her free will by her free will. Not have it conned away from her.
He finished tying his shoes and took a deep breath. I wish I knew what “okay” meant, he thought. Did she mean “Okay, I understand the answer?” “Okay, your body’s not too ugly for me to look at?” “Okay, let’s talk some more?”
Even if she meant she wanted Companionship, there were still a few minor hurdles. And Ben Hart knew it was the small object closest to the ground that was easiest to stumble over.
Ben found Avia in the visitor’s chair, in position, when he followed her inside. Seeing her there, in that way, caused something warm and soothing to bloom in his chest as he took his seat across from her in his desk chair.
“The datamine is complete. The rules no longer in force. Please sit comfortably,” he told her. He held out one of the water bottles he’d brought in from the patio.
She looked directly into his eyes and took it from him. Only then did she calmly shift position, smooth down her skirt, and cross her ankles in her customarily modest fashion.
The message was clear to him: “I choose to obey you.” She was giving him exactly what he wanted. He felt her unspoken offer of submission in his groin. As responsive as she’d been to him, he could not believe how responsive he was to her, in turn.
Ben carefully controlled his breathing and his expression, waited politely for her to speak first, if she wished. She did.
“What did you do to me?”
“I took you as far toward an ecstatic orgasm as I could, under the circumstances.”
“You’re saying that wasn’t one?” she asked. He could hear her incredulity.
“It wasn’t, but you experienced elements of it. A true ecstatic orgasm isn’t … frenetic. It doesn’t make you desperate to come -”
“You did that,” she interrupted him with an edge of residual anger in her voice. “And that wasn’t the question I was asking. “What, exactly, were you doing to me?”
“Oh. I see,” he said. He tapped something into his laptop. “I’m sending a link you need to your office email. Look at it and you’ll understand.”
“You learned how to do that from a website?”
“You expressed some contempt a while ago at men who thought they knew more about a woman’s orgasm than the woman. Well, I do. Why don’t you know? Why don’t most people?” No answer. He went on. “Do the research. It’ll help with your story, and, you’ll have your answer.”
“But only you have the secret key to ecstasy?” She asked with a shade of sarcasm.
And so we begin, he thought. The power struggle that would only end in terminating the relationship or her total submission. She’d experienced that first loss of selfhood and this was her way of trying to get her power back. She needed it, now. But I can’t indulge you for long, Avia.
“I spent six months in Nepal in a monastery under the tutelage of a Master who demanded sexual self-discipline twenty-four seven.” He said calmly. “I had no choices, no will, no needs or demands. Submission was my choice. I belonged to my Master. The path to ecstasy isn’t a secret, but it does require true commitment. I understand you haven’t made that kind of commitment. You may never do so. We aren’t on the path, yet, Avienne. We’re studying the map that tells us how to get there.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking troubled. “Seriously. I need to learn about this. Can you tell me, why is it so important to you?”
“If the path to ecstasy is surrender, it’s a path you can only walk with another.” Ben smiled. “I’d like to go there again. This is a journey. It can take weeks, months, for some people years, to get to ecstasy. In Companionship, I have a personal agenda: to get my Companion to that experience.” He said.
“Are you saying I’m going to have this … this kind of … every time we‘re together?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. I gave you that orgasm today because I wanted you to have information about what we’d be travelling toward. But pushing that hard until you’re ready would hinder, rather than help.”
“You said it could take years. There’re no shortcuts? Alternative routes?” She asked.
“Ecstasy is hard to come by,” he answered dryly.
“And you’ll always be the one who decides what kind of sex we’ll have.”
“Yes.”
“And whenever I finally have this ‘ecstatic orgasm’ we’ll be through and you find a new Companion?”
“We’ll see,” he said. Time to move on. “Right now, I want you to say ‘I’m done now.’”
She had no idea what he was on about, but she didn’t intend to test his patience any further that day. “I’m done now,” she said.
“Again.”
“I’m done now.”
He nodded. “Most BD/Ds relationships employ a safeword. If you say that phrase to me during Companionship, it’s over. Permanently. That’s your out. I don’t use any other kind of safeword. I prescribe; you comply.”
She was taken aback. She’d assumed she’d have a safeword; it gave her the courage to accept her desire to become his Companion and submit to his control. Now, even that was gone. “Why don’t you use safewords?”
“You must choose to trust me. You submit and comply. You accept whatever happens. If you don’t trust me, there’s no way to move forward.” He waited. He needed her to know this before he made the offer; he knew she already wanted to say yes. But she shouldn’t, not without knowing the extent to which she had to submit to him.
“But I can use the phrase any time. Even in the middle of … well, like what we just did.”
He nodded. “Yes, anytime, including during any sexual encounter. With one exception. If you say it during discipline, I’ll ignore it. And for fifteen minutes afterward. If you repeat after that, I’ll accept.”
“You’re saying during the part that will be painful, I have no way to stop you.”
“Correct. Unless I collapse for some reason. Then you’ll be able to access release.” He said.
“How many of these ‘disciplinary strokes’ did I get during the datamine?” she asked, wondering just how bad it was likely to be.
He repressed a smile. “Maybe sixty. I stopped counting.”
She blanched.
“Avia,” he leaned forward. “I push hard during a datamine. Far harder than during an average Session. I have to, to get the information I need and to give the potential Companion as intense an experience of submission as possible, to base a decision on. No novice in this realm of sex play could possibly go through that without acquiring disciplinary strokes. Many of them. That’s why they don’t count.
“I can only say this again: I get no sexual thrill from a disciplinary spanking. I’m not a man who enjoys others’ pain. Or inflicting it. This isn’t about that. That’s why we’ll start more simply. You’ll still earn strokes, sometimes. It’s inevitable. I’ll tell you when that comes into play. Probably by the second or third session.”
“But you said you were going to spank me at our first session. If we ever have one.”
“I am. And, as I also said, it would not be disciplinary.”
Her brows knit in concentration as she pieced this together. “So … if it’s not disciplinary, I can use my out during it?”
He nodded.
“I still don’t understand why it’s necessary,” she said.
“You don’t have to. I do.” He noted the flash of anger in her eyes. Yes, Avia, I decide when to spank you and how. Ben knew he’d have to give careful thought to how he would train this strong-willed woman without breaking her.
It was time for the question. “Avia, it would honor me if you would accept Companionship with me,” he said.
“I can give you an answer after I ask a question about the NDA,” she said. He nodded. “I’m assuming that the very fact the NDA exists is part of what I am forbidden to di
sclose.”
“Correct.”
“I want an exception. I want to tell J.J., who gave me an assignment that involves you. I’ve been here all day. On her time. She’s going to ask what the hell happened. I don’t lie, as a general rule. If I tell her I signed an NDA, it will satisfy her,” Avia explained.
“You don’t think she’ll ask questions about it?” he asked.
“She won’t. She’s a professional,” Avia replied. “If she did, I wouldn’t answer. I’m also a professional.”
“I beg your pardon, of course you are.” He took a few moments to explore the idea in his mind. “I’ll tell her, as soon as you leave.” It was not a suggestion. “If she has any questions, she’ll ask me. It’s best if you don’t have to deal with it at all.”
Now Avia took her own moment think about this turn of events. It was her professional life, after all. The interviewee shouldn’t be acting on her behalf. But then, J.J.’d called him before she told Avia anything. He was already more involved than she probably knew.
“Okay.” She agreed. “I accept your proposal. When do we start?”
DEBRIEFING
“You did what!?” Janet stared at her cell in disbelief. “Godammit, Ben, you just met the woman, when the hell did this happen?”
“Maybe eleven-thirty, twelve-o’clock,” he said. “Could have been later, I demonstrated the HoldHer chair before we -”
“You couldn’t just give her a link to the website videos?” J.J. demanded. “What kind of ‘demonstration?’”
“She’s your reporter, J.J., ask her for her notes. The chair was before the NDA. It might be deep background, but it’s not the nuclear launch codes. She’ll have notes.”
“I can’t read her notes, nobody can, she uses shorthand. Did you - what the hell did you do, Ben? Didn’t I say when we talked that she’s my friend?”
“Notes. She can transcribe them for you.” He said. “I expect you to be a pro about this, J.J., there’s no reason to even mention the NDA to her.”
