Slow Seduction (Struck by Lightning)

by Cecilia Tan

  “Dictum?” I repeated. Nadia and Juney hadn’t used that word.

  “You may choose one thing that you do not allow,” Vanette said.

  “Ah, right. I didn’t know that was what it was called.”

  “Have you given any thought to what your prohibition will be?”

  I had given it a lot of thought, actually, but until that moment I hadn’t known what to ask for. It became suddenly clear to me, though, as I sat there. “Intercourse.”

  “Oh, now that’s interesting,” the director said, his voice light and animated. “You mean to say you won’t allow anyone to, ahem, fuck you?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  The director slapped his hand on the table. “In other words, you’re not interested in the job as a way to get laid. Excellent! You see, Vanette? That’s the spirit we’ve been missing in the society. Not that I object to all the luscious creatures we have about the house, but these days, they’re all so…so loose. Even when their discipline is tight as a drum.”

  Vanette’s voice dropped in pitch. “I don’t think that’s it at all, Director. I think she’s saving herself for someone. Is that what it is, Karina?”

  I bowed my head. “Yes.”

  “A real someone? Or your fantasy master whom you hope to meet among our ranks?”

  “A real someone.”

  She huffed. “If we’re going to spend the time to train her, then I don’t want her flitting off the second Mr. Right comes to his senses and realizes what a plum he has before him.”

  Damon hadn’t spoken for a long time, but now he answered. “I find it more likely she’ll forget all about Mr. Right once she’s exposed to our ways. And then if one of our members wants to make a permanent partner of her? Well, isn’t that part of our job?”

  Vanette snorted. “Karina. I take your suggestion to mean that you won’t allow penile penetration.”

  “Yes, that’s what I mean.”

  “That means, however, that you’d be available for every other form of sexual play or torment.”

  “I figured that…um…ma’am.” Was ma’am even the right thing to call her? Mistress? I didn’t know.

  “Well, I am all for accepting her into the training program,” the director said. “I find her a very intriguing and bright candidate. Something different.”

  “I am not convinced,” Vanette replied. “She lacks experience, and I worry that she will be unable to perform adequately when it comes to sex. Service talents are all well and good, but, gentlemen, none of us here is deluded into thinking that is enough.”

  Damon spoke up then. “And if I took her for a weekend and put her through her paces? If I find her adequate sexually, shall we reconsider?”

  They went quiet for a moment, and I had the urge to lift the edge of the blindfold to see what they were up to. If I had to guess, they were all glaring at each other, or at least Damon and Vanette were.

  Vanette gave in. “Fine. I’ll be interested to see what you can do with her with that dictum in place.”

  Damon made a surprised noise.

  “Because of course that’s the condition that needs to be tested,” she went on.

  Damon sighed. “Very well.”

  “That sounds like we’re in agreement then,” the director said, “that is, if Ms. Casper agrees. Karina Casper, if you agree, you’ll belong to Damon George for a weekend and operate under all the usual rules of our trainees. Your society dictum against sexual intercourse will be honored.”

  So, Damon had come up with a reason to get me in his limo after all. But it seemed the only way forward, and I realized that as long as he wasn’t trying to fuck me, I felt fine about being alone with him. “Yes, I agree,” I said.

  “Good.” Damon clapped his hands once. “If you really agree, you’ll crawl over here and kiss my shoe.”

  I chuckled inwardly, thinking, Let the games begin. “All right.”

  I slipped to the floor and crawled across the thick carpet under the table in the direction his voice had come from. I felt for his feet with my hands. There. I had my palm on the instep of one of his well-shined leather shoes. I pressed my lips to it.

  I felt him stand up. “From this point forward, I’m Mr. George to you.”

  “Yes, Mr. George.” I swallowed. My clit began to throb the moment I answered him.

  He hummed in appreciation. “Follow my voice.”

  He was backing away. I crawled slowly after him, and I felt my lower lips moving slickly against each other.

  “Stop there,” he said. “Turn around.”

  I did as he asked, crawling in a circle. Then I felt his hand give a firm caress to one of my ass cheeks. His cupped hand slid between my thighs, and I squeaked, wondering if he could feel the wetness.

  “She’s very turned on,” he said to the others.

  “Then I suppose you have a good weekend ahead of you,” Vanette said.

  “Just remember, old boy, no wetting the dipstick!” I heard the director slap him on the shoulder. “Now, we should discuss that balloon payment.”

  “Yes, of course, Director.” To me he said, “You will stay still, with your head down, until your dominant has left the room.”

  “Yes, Mr. George.”

  “Excellent. I will message you about the weekend.”

  I stayed where I was, listening to the sound of feet crossing the carpet and then the parlor door sliding shut. I wondered if that meant it was okay for me to get up.

  I startled as Vanette’s voice came from my left. “Is he telling the truth? Are you wet?”

  I squeezed my legs together. “Gushing, ma’am.”

  “All right. I wanted to be sure spending the weekend with George wasn’t going to be a total chore for you. Is he very much like your previous partner?”

  “No, ma’am, not really.”

  “And I told you to call me Vanette.”

  “Oh! Sorry, ma—Vanette.” I felt her approach me and then gentle tugs on the knot of the blindfold.

  “Watch your head when you stand,” she warned.

  I opened my eyes and saw I had ended up with my head partway under the table. I climbed to my feet and straightened my jacket. “Can I ask a question? About the whole names and titles thing?”

  “Of course,” she said.

  “Some people use aliases, some people don’t, some people have titles, some don’t…How is someone supposed to know what to use?”

  She smiled. “Well, that’s one of the things you start to learn, but generally speaking, it’s considered polite and proper to ask how people should be addressed. Now that you know it, you’ll be listening for when people say things like ‘Call me Vanette.’ And if they don’t, you’ll know to ask, with proper deference of course, ‘Excuse me, but how would you prefer to be addressed?’ Some of them will tell you sir or ma’am is acceptable. Others will insist on a title or a name. It will be your job to remember what they tell you, of course.”

  “I understand.” I wondered if I should have asked James what to call him sooner than I did. Then again, I realized I had asked very early on. And he had actually told me his real name. I just hadn’t known or believed it at the time. “What about the society itself? What do I call that?”

  “Well,” she said, an amused smile twisting her lips, “you’re forbidden to speak of it to anyone, so why would you need a name for it?”

  “I meant among us.”

  “We have no name. Just referring to the group as the society is enough, since among our company everyone would know what you were talking about.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  “You should make your way back to the Underground now,” she said. “Nadia is here to escort you and return your phone.” She clapped her hands twice, and the parlor door slid open, revealing Nadia.

  I made a quick trip to the restroom before we got going. Neither of us said anything until we were a few blocks away, and then she handed me back my phone. “Here you are.”

  “Thank you. Wow, talk
about giving the third degree.”

  “They do grill you pretty good. I don’t know how many they turn down. It’s not as easy to get an interview as it might seem from how taken with you Mr. George is.”

  “I’m supposed to spend the weekend with him for evaluation.”

  “Oh, truly? That sounds like him. He makes sure everyone else gets sloppy seconds.” She blushed as she said it and put her hand to her cheek, holding in a laugh.

  Her comment made me giggle. “What’s funny is…well…I picked sex as my dictum. I mean, sex-sex.”

  “Oh, you wicked girl!” She squeezed my upper arm as the train station came into sight. “He will hate that. He absolutely loves to rule with his ‘love rod.’”

  That made me snort, and we both laughed. “I think he thought he was going to have his way with me,” I said. “Vanette put a stop to that.”

  “Oh, she is such a wonderful ball-busting bitch when she needs to be,” Nadia said with a sigh. “She’s fantastic. She’s supposedly only a handler, but none of the tops or masters dare get out of line when she’s around. Well, not that they get out of line much anyway, and risk expulsion or censure. They’re very, very big on rules.”

  “I noticed.” We passed through the turnstiles. “Which way are you going?”

  “I’m following you to make sure you get all the way home safely,” she said.

  “They’re really paranoid, aren’t they?”

  “We have to be,” she said.

  I supposed she was right.

  Five

  Boys Always Work it Out

  I arrived back at the ArtiWorks and headed straight for my room. I hadn’t been this aroused in all the time James and I had been separated.

  I dug to the bottom of my suitcase, where a separate case was nestled among my dirty clothes. I opened it and took out the largest of the glass dildoes he had made for me. I took off my clothes and lay down on the bed with the dildo on my chest. While I waited for it to warm up, my mind went into fantasies. Not of Damon or the club, but of James.

  James as Lord Lightning. I could remember the scent of his limo, the sound of the traffic outside the tinted windows. Normally, he would be conservatively dressed in an expensive and fine button-down shirt and jacket, if not in a full suit and tie. But I imagined him as he appeared in some of the fan photos, in a skintight shirt cut off above the waist exposing his toned abs and pants so form-fitting that the shape of his cock was visible through them. I slicked the dildo between my legs until it was well coated, and then began easing it inside.

  It had been a while. I remembered how patient James was with me, though, coaxing me and taking his time putting it in. I imagined it was his hand keeping my lips spread. The bulk stretched my insides deliciously.

  With a groan, I felt it slide the last inch into place.

  It felt wrong to come too quickly because I wanted to make the feeling last. But I knew if I stroked my clit now, it wouldn’t take long at all.

  I sat up, a sudden idea burning in my head: LL limousine stories were a thing, eh? I crossed my legs, careful to keep the glass in place, and opened my laptop. I still had a browser window open to the LL fan site I had been reading.

  Creating an account was free. I picked the username GlassTiara and clicked on Post a Story, then started to type:

  We hurried into the limousine, but once we were safe behind the tinted glass, once we were on our way, we could relax for a time.

  “Come here, my pet,” he said, and I nestled close to him, thinking I might nap on our way.

  But he had other ideas. His hand slid down the small of my back and under the waistband of my underwear. He teased, slipping it further and further until my clothes impeded him. I predicted that I wouldn’t be wearing them for long.

  I was right. He whispered into my ear to strip from the waist down, and I did. He pulled me against him again, his other hand finding the space between my legs and then his finger finding the slick entry into my body. I gasped as he slid it inside of me.

  He fucked me with his finger, his eyes roving from the place where it disappeared into my body up to my face, checking me for any signs of distress. The only sign I gave was to whisper, “More.”

  He worked a second finger in next to the first, fucking me slowly and murmuring into my ear. “Do you like that, my darling? Does that feel good?”

  “Yes, oh yes, but I want more. I want you.”

  “I know you do, my pet.” He pushed his fingers extra deep and wiggled them, his thumb flicking my clit.

  He said nothing more, only continued to stimulate and tease me that way, sometimes speeding up his hand to fuck me hard for a few strokes, then slowing down to a torturous, gradual pace again.

  After a while, I reached the edge of orgasm, my breath catching in my throat and my hands clutching at the jacket of his suit. He kept me on that cruel edge for a long time, while I wailed and tugged on his lapels and shook, to no avail.

  And then I started to cry. “Please, please, why can’t I have you?”

  His laugh was deep and low. “You know why, my pet.”

  “I don’t!”

  He pushed his fingers deeper, but it wasn’t enough.

  “I need you! Please!” I cried out.

  “No. You know what happened the last time I gave in to your demands.”

  “That won’t happen again! I won’t hurt you! I promise!”

  But he clucked his tongue and shook his head.

  “Please, James!” I whispered, pushing the laptop aside and crushing my clit against my fist as the first wave of orgasm swept through me. “Oh God! Please!” Tears of release came at the same time as the shudders and spasms of pleasure, shaking me and leaving me damp and limp all over.

  I was still lying there, half-asleep, when my phone chimed with a text.

  My heart jumped for a moment. I was still used to James being the only one with this number. I picked it up and looked at the message.

  It was from Damon George: I have booked us a hotel suite in London for the weekend. I will forward you the exact address. Plan to arrive Friday after dinner, 9pm, and not leave until Sunday at least noon, possibly late afternoon or evening if warranted. If you agree, text me back: Yes, Mr. George.

  I texted him back as he instructed, thinking that would be it for the night.

  But another message came a second later. And now text me a photo of your cunny.

  I knew what he meant, but my mind raced. I still had the dildo in, my pubic hair sopping wet. Everything was swollen. I sent: What?

  Ha-ha. Your private parts, my dear.

  I froze, a bunch of lies coming to the front of my mind. My camera doesn’t work. I’m in a public place and I can’t right now.

  No. We’re not doing that anymore. I realized I had a better thing to say. I don’t have to do what you say until I set foot in the door of your hotel suite. Isn’t that right?

  For long moments, nothing happened. Then another text. That is right. Merely testing you. Good to see you can maintain appropriate boundaries. Very important skill.

  I wasn’t sure if he was serious or if he was saying that to make it look good. Whatever. See you at 9pm, I sent, and he didn’t answer. Phew.

  I put the phone aside and slid the dildo free carefully. I was exhausted. And it was going to be a long week.

  I settled into something of a routine for the next few days. I’d spend the late morning answering questions from people at the exhibition, have lunch with Tristan, give the two-thirty group tour, and then after the museum closed, head back to the ArtiWorks to help Paul and Misha with the renovation work. There was a partition wall in back that had to come down. Misha handed me a heavy metal bar with a bend in one end and a hook on the other.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “It’s a wrecking bar,” he said.

  “What do I do with it?”

  “Wreck!” He pointed at the wall with a gleeful gleam in his eye.

  I hefted the bar in my hand
before swinging it at the wall. The hooked end sank satisfyingly into the wall plaster. As I pulled it out, it ripped a hunk of the wall free.

  “You get the idea,” he said. “Have fun.”

  Swinging the wrecking bar turned out to be a lot of fun and must have been a good workout because my arm and shoulders were sore as hell the next day. I spent three days reducing that wall to rubble but I managed it. I wouldn’t have wanted to do that for a living, but it was very satisfying to see the pile at the end and the nice big room that was created when the wall was gone.

  I told them while we sat around one night in the wreckage, covered in plaster dust, eating Indian takeout (they called it “takeaway”), that I would be leaving for the weekend.

  “Oh, are you going to take that trip to York you wanted?” Paulina asked. I’d told her I wanted to see York but not why. Not yet, anyway.

  “No, that’ll be next week. This weekend, I’ve actually got sort of a date right here in London,” I said.

  Michel brightened up. He had started growing a beard, and with his apple cheeks it gave him something of the look of a beaver or woodchuck. “Sort of date? That sounds more interesting than a regular date.”

  “Weekend-long date?” Paulina asked. “I take it you met someone.”

  You could say that. Even if I hadn’t been sworn to silence about the society itself, I wouldn’t have been prepared to tell them what was going on. “I gave a private tour of the exhibit to someone who took an interest in me.”

  “Hmm, but you don’t sound that interested in him.” She scooped curry from a container onto her plate. She had brought china plates with a painted pattern of bright blue and yellow flowers on their rims from upstairs for us to eat on. “Am I right?”

  “I don’t expect it to turn into a relationship,” I said. “But I think I might learn something from him. And a weekend at an expensive hotel seems like it ought to be fun.”

  “Ah, chérie, I wish more young women had your attitude,” Michel said. “Your eyes are wide open. You see him for what he is. Go. Have fun. Be open to the experience.”

  Paulina, though, was looking out for me. “If you need us to come get you, you know, just in case you don’t like him or you feel like you can’t stay, text or call us, eh? We’ll pretend to be your parents.”