by Alex Elliott
No need to look out and over the audience to ascertain that some of the members present more than likely are jacking off, finger fucking themselves, or have a sub in front them on their knees as they get sucked off, blown to hell. This is the only time during the night that within the main lounge, sexual contact is permitted besides those on stage. A few women members, Dominatrices I’m acquainted with speak in harsh tones, demanding that I force my cock down X’s throat.
My fingers tangle over her wig as I hold her still for my pleasure. Not theirs. At first I move in slow measure strokes into this girls perfect mouth, but as liquid fire ignites and then detonates under my skin. I thrust harder and faster.
“Relax your mouth,” I order her and she nods, sucking me with greater intensity, her head bobbing up and down my crown.
X flicks the metal ball at the tip of her tongue in torturous sweeps at the back of my cock and I barrel my length into her mouth. In and out, I slam my shaft, making her take me. My body goes rigid, the muscles of my shoulders down to my hamstrings constrict. Holy fuck!
“Soon, sub.” And then I’m there. I jet a hot stream into her mouth, but the girl shows me no mercy.
“Mmm,” she hums over my cock, swallowing my cum, and resumes sucking my crown, running her piercing along my ridge.
All my muscles contract as another spasm rips through me, and I force my column deeper into her mouth. Owning her. Commanding her. Forcing her to submit, accepting the last centimeter of my rod. I rocket full throttle as ecstasy shoots up my spine and out my cock as I release into her. I thrust in and out of her warm wet mouth, then pound forward, ramming my rod to the back of her throat. The burn of my muscles flares as pleasure ignites into blinding light that fills my head.
“X.S.,” I grunt, holding her and watching her lips ghost my crotch. For seconds, I’m fully inside her mouth and deep down her throat as I stare at her, and our gazes collide.
She’s incredible, squeezing her lips around my shaft as I withdraw from her greedy mouth. I force myself to straighten, breathing hard as I coerce my fully erect cock back into my leathers, hungry to have her bound and open for me. I reach down, carefully lifting her upward with her cuffed arms secured behind her. As soon as we’re standing next to one another, I can’t help myself and lean forward, kissing her drenched mouth in front of the whole room. Hands pound tables and disgruntled noise flare in the form of harsh talk, issued most likely from other Doms still pissed at being undercut.
“Someone’s not happy,” she whispers against my lips. Her fuckable mouth curls into a delicious grin. “I have something for you. In my hand.”
Granted not the usual way a Dom greets his new submissive and I pull her to me. “I don’t give a flying fuck about them,” I say, spinning her around, and seeking her palm. I swipe the key from her hand, and unlock the restraints, smoothing my fingers across the red marks marring her skin. This will be the last time I see metal mark her beautiful skin.
I toss the cuffs onto the lectern as Jax knocks the gavel down to reestablish order. “Rowdy crowd,” I retort him and our eyes lock.
He grins in return. “Boy, you do have that effect on people. Now don’t you?”
I don’t answer. Leading Xavia from the stage, I guide her past the tables, leaning in close and telling her to look straight ahead and not down. “But that’s not what my keeper said to do,” she informs me.
I snarl out, “Is he your Dom?”
At the threshold, she breaks her unyielding stare forward and glances back at me, lips parted and replies, “No. But I don’t understand.”
I pilot her just beyond the main room, then pull her near to me. Holding on to her cloaked shoulders, I rub my thumbs along her collarbone concealed by the silky material. “I admire your strength. I’m not here to break you but to teach you. Remember. Lessons one and two. You’re ready for another. Correct?”
“It’s why I’m here. Please, teach me.” Her eyes appear incandescent from behind the mask, and I tilt her chin, peering at her for a beat, absorbing her beauty.
Inside the hallway, it’s quieter and I lean in closer, whispering. “Don’t ever give up your core strength. Ever. It’s what drew me to you in the first place. There’s a difference between establishing your locus of control and relying on mine. I’ll push you and assuredly, you’re going to bend, but don’t discount that ability. It’s borne out of strength. Bamboo versus the oak. Which one is stronger?”
“Are you telling me this because of where we’re headed?” She shifts her eyes down the mirrored hall then back to mine.
“I’m giving you advice as well as letting you know I see you. I want you. I’m not here to destroy what I desire and very much admire. You’re the first submissive I’ve ever claimed in this manner.” My words come tumbling out until I can see where I’m headed. If I say too much, she might not go through with this. I haven’t had time to discuss the slight change in plans and she doesn’t realize how this can spin out of control.
I can’t deny her if she asks the real question of where are we headed. I’m weaving secrets, and the paradox is I hunger for honesty between us. Yet how can I be open with her as we put ourselves on display? Too quickly, I’m coming to understand—with her I crave something I fail to conceptualize with words. ... I can’t even define what the hell it is that I desire.
I tug on her arm, escorting her farther down the hall. We turn a corner and another as I steer her away from the room I originally reserved. It’s been years since I was back down this isolated corridor. Instead of relying on routine, I turn the tables on my fucked up plan and ask, “What is it that you want? For both of us?”
She blinks at me in surprise and takes a second to consider what I just asked. It’s this side of her that nicks my confidence. Her quiet composure—so polar to how she’s wild and untamed... How she was a couple of moments ago—on stage sucking me off. Clearly, we’re both in a quandary with the boundaries shifting fast.
“I’ve never done anything this exotic. This avant-garde. But with you, I felt incredible up on stage. I never expected to transform into this person who doesn’t care about anyone else in the room. I want that all the time,” she admits.
Fuck. I inhale and drop her gaze, flailing mentally at her admission. My eyes dart to her neck, to the shadow of a bruise. A spot I’ve sucked. Left my mark. Her pale smooth skin is silk and I watch as her pulse thrums. I’m holding back from touching, squeezing that perfect point on her neck.
“I can help you develop that part of your personality. If you trust me implicitly.” Once again, I’m lying through my teeth. I’ve made my decision and I’m not going to share her or us with the rest of the club. Not tonight. I’ll deliver a version of what she desires minus a private viewing room filled with House members.
“You have to ask, Master?” She touches my arm, releasing a charge that scatters across my skin.
“Apparently,” I mutter, but say nothing further that will get me into deeper trouble. “From this point on, you do exactly as I say, or you’ll suffer the consequences.”
I stop in front of the door that’s locked. There’s no security detail outside but there are closed-circuit cameras along the hall ceiling. This section of the club is devoid of voices. In seconds, that won’t be the case. I press my thumb to the security pad, until a green light flashes. Opening the door, I usher her forward, ignoring the haunting desperation that clouds my vision as people congregate at the end of the hall.
Jax appears, he whistles low.
“Stay put inside here,” I command X as she enters.
I step back into the hall, directing my attention to Jax. Our gazes fuse, a question clearly on his lips. I nod, affirming I’m using the only private room in the House. Not the one where I imagine a crowd has gathered and is waiting to watch me break my sub in. Bind her. Spank her. Brutally fuck her.
I can see him sigh heavily as he says something to Noah. My other partner’s head snaps up and he turns to stare down the hall. He smi
rks, flashes me a bird, but laughs. They’ve got fires to put out with this move I just made. Closing the door, I lock the deadbolt, and key in a code, dismantling the security pad from being overridden.
“This way, little sub.” I take X by her slender arm.
* * *
I FOLLOW within the private hall. At the end, the lights are dimmer and the doorway comes into view. Ben unlocks the door, shuttles me inside, but there’s a commotion from where we came. “Is everything all right?” I ask when he returns.
He arches a brow in response. “Care to reframe that one?”
“Master...” I stall, then shake my head. Trust me. His words. A question or a declaration. I said I do, yet clearly I’m contradicting myself with these questions that crop up and then out my mouth without censor. “Never mind.”
Refraining from posing a hundred and one questions that flash through my mind, I watch him as he picks up a lighter and proceeds to light a candle, then another and another. I inhale, trying to relax as if that’s possible. Right now, there are members gathering in a private room on the other side of a two-way mirror. I train my gaze around the room, searching for a viewing window.
This room is open on one side, decorated as an elegant bedroom. The other is a sitting area with a sofa, wet bar, and several tables. Without question, this room is opulently appointed within a rich earthy schemata. Sandalwood scents the air. Plush velvets and sumptuous silks abound. Everything is meant to provoke the senses into overdrive. Unlike the rest of the club decorated in ultramodern stone surfaces, crystal chandeliers, and overstuffed imposing leather furniture.
Inside the bedroom section stands an imposing four-poster bed with mirrors on the ceiling. The bed is dressed with wine-colored silk sheets and a plush comforter, reminding me of a room I might own except I’d have tons of pillows on the bed. There are bolsters in place, and then my focus zeroes in on the eye hooks and clamps on the bedposts near the bottom that peak out and glimmer.
Candles are lit all around, emitting a warm glow. The metallic surfaces catch and cast the candlelight. Oodles and oodles of flickering flames, and they’re reflected in Bennett’s eyes as he stands in front of me and unties the cords to the silk cape I wear. I lean into his warm palms, gliding over my shoulders as the cape opens and he lets it go. Weighty, and I welcome the billowing material slipping off my body, pooling at my feet. I’m naked except for my shoes, mask, and wig—bared to him and now to others watching us. I shiver, yet lift up my chin, refusing to think of anyone other than the man before me.
Flickering shadows play across his chiseled features. “Do you recall disappearing on me?” He tips up my chin, and I feel the skin over my body tingle.
“Yes, Master,” I say.
“See that?” He directs my attention off to the side. There’s a bench—padded blood red leather with restraints for what looks like legs and on the other side wrists. “I want you open to me. All mine without reservation.”
Isn’t that what I’ve been all this time? Perhaps he doesn’t know how deep his effect goes and as I stare up into his face, I want to tell him. I am. Silently, I nod.
He pulls his shirt up and over his head, displaying his torso that is a sculpted work of rigid muscles. He’s wearing leathers and without a shirt, his corrugated abs flex as he pulls me to him. His upper torso is peppered with scars, jagged lashes—all a reminder of his painful past and my chest squeezes.
I can’t help but arch my neck as he skims his fingers over my hips, and lower over my freshly waxed mound. “You followed my instructions,” he whispers as the space between my legs aches from his words and blooms from his touch.
“Per your direction, Master.”
“Then you reap the reward.” The whisper of a promise that he’ll suck my clit until I’m half-crazed—if I submit to him—sends a buzz of anticipation through my body.
I’ve had the pleasure of lying across his lap as he’s candy-striped my ass cheeks using his belt and his hand. I feel the unmistakable graze of his cock housed inside the butter soft leather pants he’s wearing. “Please, sir.”
“Submit to me as I sample you from one side to the other, especially your beautiful cunt. Obey me. Everything I order you to do.”
“I-I-...” I shift my gaze as if searching for words. Nervously, I glance at the ornate mirror—the viewing window—and am confused by all that I’m feeling. How can I be so oblivious to those who watch us? I’m torn, craving him. Craving this.
Ben cups my chin, forcing my focus back to him. “All you seek is right here. Between us. Within us. Don’t let your attention detour. Focus on me, little sub. You’re mine.”
His words infused with the tone of his authoritative voice land like a weighted mantle over me and I stare into his eyes, absorbing his power and confidence.
With his eyes on me, I am impervious.
“Master, I’m ready.”
The corners of his mouth curve with an expression of satisfaction “Trust me to help you find what you’re searching for.”
Ah, this irony isn’t lost on me. This lesson in how to find myself—I must be willing to lose myself. Seek from within what I believe is missing.
Leading me toward the bench, he bows my body over the padded surface, securing my wrists and ankles in leather restraints. He lifts a thin reed. “This is a cane,” he states matter-of-factly and shows me the device. “Care to hold or touch it?”
I stare at it then up at him, biting my lip to stop my chin from quivering, pulling on my wrists as if to demonstrate I’m not exactly free to start an exculpatory exploration of his Dom tools of his trade that he intends to utilize for my benefit in lessons I require. “No thank you, Master.”
“Then we begin,” he replies. “First you’re to ask that I discipline you. Then you’ll count each time I strike you and you’ll thank me. Understood?”
“Yes. Master.”
“Before you decide to disappear, you consult me. Never run away again. Now ask me to help you learn how to behave.” Our eyes lock and it’s as potent as a touch...as powerful as a kiss.
“Please, help me,” I say softly.
“Louder, sub,” he growls.
“Please teach me to control myself!”
He walks up to me, fists my hair, yanks it by the roots and snarls in my ear. “Not good enough. I want the whole House to hear you beseech me! This is how you submit to me. Unless you’re having a problem with that idea.”
I stare into his eyes that captivate me and do as he asks, yielding by loudly pleading for him to teach and to discipline me. He nods in mute satisfaction, and recedes beyond my line of vision. I hear the swish, and then I feel the sting. A burning slice echoes on my right cheek. I tighten my fingers into balls and prepare for the next one.
“Did you forget something?” He returns to the side of the bench, towering over me.
Shit! Shit. “One. Thank you, Master.”
“That’s what I want to hear.” He brushes the hair out of my eyes. “There will be no more reminders without a consequence.”
Again, he swats the thin wooden reed across my skin and I reply, my voice ripping from my mouth as the pain expands from a slice to a line of fire across my skin. “Two. Thank. You. Master.”
He grunts and unleashes on my ass cheeks, landing rapid-fire swats from one side to the other. I count and thank him. Over and over. Another swish erupts in the air, and I’m tensing. My arms, back, stomach, and down my legs are getting a workout.
Again, he lands the tip of the cane on my cheek, and I clench from the scalding pain, gritting out, “Fifteen, thank you...Master.”
“You’re doing very well.” He pauses, running his palm along the enflamed skin over my bottom and like a cat in heat, I curl my tailbone.
All too soon, he resumes his position, and smacks my ass. The muscles over my shoulders tense and I stiffen my arms, refusing to jerk my wrists. That would be senseless—a show of weakness. I’m not going anywhere. Big talk.
Once more a
nd, then so many times, he raises and lowers his arm. A swish slices the air and the cane bites my skin.
I scrunch my eyes shut. My brain buzzes—I’m lost in sensation overload. “Twenty-two,” I whisper. “Thank you, Master.”
Sweltering slashes of pain reverberate along my body. “Louder,” he chastises me, delivering a double-snap of the cane to my bottom.
“Twenty-three. Thank you, Master,” I semi-shout.
I’m cast into a haze where he’s tanning my ass cheeks as I rattle off numbers, thanking him, and vowing I will not cry out or beg him for less. Not when others are watching. I can only imagine what is assumed when a Dom’s submissive whines. For him, I stay strong as prickling sweat erupts over my skin. Except another smack lands, imparting a fiery sting to my bottom, and I’m so near...so near to... Breaking?
“Well?” he asks in a low, deep voice. “Or should we start from scratch?”
I bite my bottom lip, harder this time as my muscles tremble. I force myself to breathe. A slow steady inhalation. My mind tumbles, twists for a second. “Thirty-three. Thank you, Master,” I puff out. Not exactly composed, but neither am I crying, or worse begging him to stop, which a huge part of me is oh so ready to do...if we weren’t in a room with a view!
He stops, his hands rub across my ass. “Beautiful,” he grunts, spreading my cheeks and holding me open. I feel his fingers travel lower, splaying my lips apart. In one rough slide, he thrust his finger inside me. “Your pussy is so wet, little sub.”
“Please,” I hiss the word between my lips.
“Soon,” he promises in his gravelly voice. “Soon, I’ll give you your reward.”
He pumps his finger inside me, then thrusts two fingers until I’m at the edge and a golden glow magnifies and consumes me. His fingers curl and find the exact spot to drive me wild. “Beg for my cock,” he whispers, fisting my hair.
