“I’d be happy to give you a demonstration, if you like.”
I laugh a little too loud, then trail off as a coughing attack takes me.
Leo looks a little concerned, but appears more amused by how awkward I’m being right now.
“That looks a little intense for me,” I say once I’ve calmed down--on the outside at least. My panties are already soaked through with the thought of Leo putting me in a situation like that again, except this time without the reservation. I’m already starting to see how much he held back on me at the party. As much as it terrifies me thinking of being so exposed, vulnerable, and used… it excites me just as much. I spend so much time thinking about doing everything I can for my mom. I try to be a good girl so I don’t disappoint my mom before she passes. I sacrifice my personal life to take care of her. I’m happy to do all of it, and it makes me feel like the world’s worst daughter to admit it, even in my mind, but it takes a toll. I feel like an empty shell of a person sometimes, someone just going through the motions and not really living.
Except when I was at the party with Leo the other night. Except now. Whenever he’s with me, it all changes.
Being here. Being with Leo. Being in this place? It’s waking me up. It’s making things inside my body come alive I had forgotten were there. And some things I wasn’t even aware of.
The man inside the room reaches for his belt. A dirty part of me wants to see him hit her with it but instead, he yanks his pants down. The way the woman is positioned means the man’s back is mostly to us, but it’s clear what’s happening when he rams his hips into her and starts pounding himself into her with groans of pleasure. The woman’s mouth opens in a silent exclamation of ecstacy just as Leo gently guides me toward the next window.
He’s watching me very carefully now, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was getting off on my reactions. Even if I wanted to control my face right now, I know I couldn’t. This is all too much, too strange and exciting.
The next window opens up to a room full of pulsating orange light. A beautiful woman with silver hair and a full body is suspended in the air by an intricate web of ropes connecting to her wrists, ankles, waist, and back. Smoke or fog--I can’t tell which--billows from vents in the floor, catching the light until the entire scene looks eerie and almost surreal. She’s facing the ceiling while two sculpted, shirtless men slowly drip hot wax on her body. She shivers slightly with each drop of wax that patters to her bare skin. A distant part of me is jealous to think that Leo is looking at this naked woman too, but then I shift my attention back to him and see he’s only watching me. I gasp in surprise when our eyes meet because it feels like a hint of the fire he feels inside passes over to me in that instant, like I can actually feel how hungry he is for me.
When I look back to the demonstration, one of the men is inserting the end of the candle that’s not lit inside the woman’s pussy, which is making her squirm and gasp with pleasure. The other man is still dripping wax, but he’s kissing her now too, stifling her moans with his own mouth while he lets wax dribble across her erect nipples.
Leo leads me away again, this time to a blue room where a huge block of ice sits in the corner. Small containers also line the walls, which the three men are gathering ice from and using it to drip and run across a naked woman’s body. This woman is blindfolded and slender, but she’s making no mystery of her enjoyment as she moans and swears out loud, pushing her hips up into the air as much as she can while tied down to a table by her ankles and wrists.
“As you can see,” Leo says casually. “These are the public rooms, which is why they call this particular club ‘The Zoo’. The private rooms are this way,” he says, leading me farther down the hallway, but too quickly to make out what’s going on in the other public rooms enough to know that I should be blushing.
“Private rooms?” I ask. Now I am blushing.
He turns, cocking an eyebrow at me. “Yes. You didn’t think I was going to fuck you in front of an audience, did you?”
“Wait a second,” I say. My body may be practically throbbing to be touched and taken by him, but my brain is still working--at least a little bit. “This was supposed to be a date. You brought me to this place and expected to… what? Take me to some dark room and tie me up while you spank me again? Is that all it’s ever going to be between us?”
He steps into me, forcing me back against the wall so his face is only inches from mine. “I need you, Lysa.”
I wait for him to say more, to explain, but he doesn’t. He only looks down at me, those green eyes boring into me, searching my body. His chest rises and falls quickly, arms flexed as he holds the wall on either side of me like he’s trying to keep it from falling down.
“I’m scared,” I say. It’s not exactly the right way to express what I’m feeling, but it’s the best I can manage right now. “This is all happening so fast. Too fast. I’ve got my mom to think about. Responsibilities.”
“What is your body telling you?” he asks.
I purse my lips in annoyance. “It doesn’t matter what my body says. I have a brain for a reason.”
I nearly jump with surprise when he slides his hand up my thigh, pressing his fingers to my soaked panties. “You have that beautiful pussy for a reason, too. So I can claim it. Every inch of it. So I can fill you until you think you’ll burst. I need you,” he says again in a voice so low it’s practically a growl. “We can worry about the rest after tonight. I promise. Just let us have tonight.”
The intensity of it all makes me feel like I can’t breathe, like my body is taking control and pushing my brain back into the darkness until it’s just background noise. All my doubts, my fears, my worry… It fades away as the deafening roar of want and lust rushes up to drown it out.
I don’t think. I don’t wait. I grip the back of his neck and tilt my mouth up to meet his.
I realize he was just waiting for some sign of permission, and now that I’ve given it to him, I’m not in the driver’s seat--not in the slightest. His hard body presses into mine as we kiss. I thread my fingers through his hair, gripping a handful for something to hold on to, something to anchor myself in this moment so I’m not blasted away by his heat and hunger.
Giving into his demand is like letting the current of a raging river take me after I’ve struggled so hard I can barely stand it anymore. The power of his will grips me and drags me along effortlessly, and the feeling is like flying, like my body is weightless and drifting along a perfect expanse of water in a world where I have no worries or fears, where the only thing that matters anymore is holding onto him and enjoying the ride.
Without taking his mouth from mine or his hands from my body, he somehow manages to guide me blindly into a room before slamming the door behind us. I don’t know if I could open my eyes right now, even if I wanted to, so I might as well be blindfolded as he kisses me and pulls me deeper into the room until I bump into something that feels like leather.
He turns me so my back is to him and gently presses me down. I open my eyes now, catching just a glimpse of the room full of strange devices and toys before I’m face-down on a padded chair. I’m still fully clothed, or as close to fully clothed as this outfit can pass for, but the way I’m bent over the chair makes my dress ride up so I’m sure he has a full shot of my panties. Instead of making me self-conscious though, the thought makes me feel hot. Sexy, even.
“We’re going to play a game,” he says. He runs his hand down from my shoulder blades to my ass, where he helps himself to a healthy handful and then gives me a light slap that makes me jump. “A game of trust.”
It’s all I can do to keep breathing, so I say nothing. I only lay there on the table knowing how exposed I am with my ass in the air like this and the short dress I wear. From where he’s standing, I’m almost positive he can see exactly how soaked my panties are, too. The thought makes me press my thighs together, but he forces them open again with firm hands.
I can feel it more clearl
y now than before, how much I’m in his control when he turns me on. If I can keep my lust at bay, I feel at least a little in control around him, but as soon as his hands touch my skin and his words turn dirty, it seems like I might as well be his puppet. I’d like to think I’m a strong enough and intelligent enough woman that I wouldn’t let a man turn me into his plaything like this, but I don’t know anymore. There’s a freedom in the submission to him, a loss of control that means everything is in his hands--for better or worse. I can sit back and enjoy the ride, but the question is whether I can trust him to drive.
Maybe that’s why he wants to play a game of trust, he’s trying to teach me to trust him.
“We’ll call it truth or spank. I hope I don’t need to explain it much beyond that?”
I shake my head. “But how will you know if I’m lying?” I ask.
“I’ll know,” he says.
Somehow, I believe him.
“First question: do you want to be here right now?”
I consider lying, or at least muddling the truth with a “no” or an “I’m not sure,” but a moment’s thought reminds me he’s staring at my soaked panties. He probably can still vividly remember how hard I came that night at the party, too, so it’s not like I can exactly pretend this isn’t my thing. With a sigh, I mutter, “Yes.”
There’s a pause. One second. Two. Three. “Good,” he says finally.
I exhale, relaxing just slightly.
“How many men have you been with? Before me.”
“I--I don’t know,” I stammer.
The sound of his hand on my ass echoes out with a sharp crack. I’m jolted forward with the force of it, cheeks flushing with embarrassment at being disciplined like a child, yet at the same time, there’s a dark thrill coursing through my body. Right now, he might as well own me, like I’m some prize he has claimed and now plans to use for his enjoyment. That should offend me, maybe even piss me off, but it only turns me on. It makes my pussy ache to be filled and my body tremble with the need to feel his powerful hands claiming every inch of me.
“Naughty pet,” he says. “How many.” His voice is more forceful this time. The sound alone makes goosebumps rise across my neck and legs.
“Three. I think. No, it’s three,” I say more forcefully. “Before you.”
There’s a long enough pause that I almost expect him to hit me again. Instead I hear the sound of a bottle being opened. He rubs his hands together briefly before applying something to the place he slapped me that feels cool to the touch. In an instant, the tingling, hot memory of pain fades to little more than a slight tightness on the surface of my skin.
“Last question,” he says. “For now. What’s your favorite color?”
I turn to look at him with surprise. I’m even more shocked when I see he’s smiling--almost shyly.
He meets my look with a shrug. “I was curious.”
I laugh, biting my lip and looking at him for what feels like the first time. “It’s green,” I say. “Like your eyes,” I add, almost as if it’s an afterthought.
A moment passes that seems to distill just a hint of the tension in the moment, and I take the opportunity to ask him a question “Why do you do this?” I ask, flipping myself over and sitting on the edge of the bench. “I mean, how do you even know you want to try something like this, let alone become a Master.”
At first, the look on Leo’s face is full of displeasure--probably because I got up without his permission, but it softens as he considers my question. “I’ve always known,” he says. “At times it feels like a darkness that resides in me, like a black ball of sin in my chest that I have to feed to keep at bay. But I’ve come to learn it’s not that. There’s nothing evil or dark about what I do, what we’ve done,” he adds with a raised eyebrow. “Do you feel guilt for enjoying this?”
“Yes,” I say. My body still throbs with need, but even talking about this with him feels like a kind of sexual intimacy that doesn’t dull the radiating heat between my legs in the slightest.
I suck in a breath when he stips his jacket and starts undoing his buttons one by one, revealing inch after inch of muscular flesh.
“Guilt is a construct, Lysa,” he says, fingers still moving down from button to button. “It’s nothing more than jealousy projected onto you by others. If they knew the way I felt about you, the way I can make you feel, they would be jealous. They should be.” He drops his shirt to the floor, eyes never leaving me. “Because no woman on this Earth will ever be wanted as much as I want you. No woman will ever be coveted like I covet you. No child will be more loved than our child will be,” he says, pressing a soft hand to my belly while looking into my eyes.
He half-smiles. “I can promise you anything, pet, because there’s nothing I wouldn’t give for you--nothing I can’t give.” He brushes my cheek with such a delicate finger that I feel like I’m his. His woman. His pet. His slave. His anything. I don’t care what he wants to call it right now, I’m too drunk on how much he wants me and how good it feels to be desired and dragged away from the routine of my life. It feels so fucking good.
His hand wanders down from my cheek to my neck, where it falls further, leaving a trail of blazing heat in its wake. He cups my breast. My nipples harden immediately, pushing through the fabric of my bra and my dress. He rubs his thumb over the hardened point, drawing a small gasp from me.
He watches me. I can feel the weight of his expectation pressing in on me. The words he wants to hear are right on the tip of my tongue, so close to becoming fact that I can almost taste it. I want everything you’re offering. I want your collar. I want to be owned. I want you. And I do. But I can’t say that. I can’t open that door. Right now this has been an escape. He has given me more thrills in a few days than I’ve had in the past ten years combined, yet I can’t say the words. I can’t make this permanent. I can’t make it real.
If this was real it would terrify me. It would have me running as fast as I could with my hands pressed to my ears until all I could hear was the sound of my own blood rushing through my veins.
If this became real it would mean losing my mom in a way. I would need to give so much of myself to Leo to satisfy him, I know that as sure as I’ve known anything. He’s not just talking when he says he wants to own me. He wants every bit of me. He wants to consume me. There’s something so tempting in that offer--the idea of letting myself be swallowed up by Leo, of knowing he wants me so deeply and powerfully he’d never let me go or never let anything happen to me.
But wanting him would be selfish. It would be a betrayal to my mom, and I can’t do that.
“I can’t,” I say.
His face falls. It’s a subtle change, but it’s clear enough to make my heart ache.
He’s about to speak again when my phone vibrates from my purse. The sound cuts through the thick air, snapping me out of the moment like a cold bath. I instinctively reach for my purse. Leo moves to stop me, but I’ve already pulled the phone free and seen who’s calling before he reaches me. It’s my mom.
“Mom?” I ask through the receiver. “Is everything okay?”
Leo watches me with a note of alarm, but doesn’t move.
“I need you to tell these fuckers to get their hands off me and get out of my room,” snaps my mom through the phone.
I raise my eyebrows. She sounds pissed, even by her usual standards. “What’s going on?”
“These meathead pricks,” she says in a low growl. “They come into my room and start telling me how I need to come with the immediately. Some asshole decided he was going to send me to a specialist whether I liked it or not. Now they--Hey! Hands off, pencil dick. If I wanted to be groped I’d go to the airport--pardon me, now they are trying to take me out of my room, and they don’t realize I’m packing heat and not afraid to murder some muscle-bound dimwits who don’t know how to buy a shirt that fits.”
“Mom. You have not murdered anybody and you’re not about to start.”
Leo’s eyes wid
en a little and his mouth twitches with amusement.
“Just tell them to leave. We already paid for the room through the end of the month.”
I hear my mom screaming at the men in the background and then a scuffling sound comes through the phone.
“Hello?” asks a man with a deep voice through the phone.
“What the hell is going on?” I ask.
“Mr. Carlyle insisted we get Mrs. Ross to Dr. Fairchild as quickly as possible. He said not to take no for an answer.”
My blood runs cold. It’s too much. He thinks he can start shipping my mom around like some sick cow against her wishes? He didn't even bother to ask me why my mom wasn’t being treated right now. If he wants to try to be my master and dominate me that’s one thing, but my mom? “Oh he did?” I ask. “Maybe if Mr. Carlyle tells you to fuck off right now, you will.”
I hand the phone to Leo, who is watching me very carefully. He slowly brings the phone up. “Leave her alone,” he says quietly.
He hands me the phone back. “Mom?” I ask.
“Who the hell else would it be?” she snaps.
“I don’t know, the guy I was just talking to, maybe?”
“You mean pencil-dick?”
“Mom,” I say. “Are they gone?”
“They’re gone.”
I hang up the phone and turn my focus on Leo. She’ll need calming down later, but right now I need to deal with this gorgeous jerk who thinks he can do whatever he wants. “You did this?” I ask
“Tried to help your mom? Yeah, I did.”
“What gives you the right?” I ask. I surprise myself by lunging forward and shoving his chest. He doesn’t budge, but I feel a swirling sense of chaos in my gut that I can’t pin down, and striking out at him seems to calm it, though not by much.
“To help her?” He asks.
Knocked Up by the Master: A BDSM Secret Baby Romance Page 11
