by Sadie Marks
He was right that it was a huge turn on, but she'd always avoided giving any Dominant the impression that she was his for more than just a scene. And this—this was definitely going to give him an impression, especially with another club visit planned for that evening. She wavered, wondering if she should cancel out on that. Wake him up now, send him packing and cut things off before she got in too deep.
But she didn't. She looked at the clock and assured herself that it was just because she had to get ready for work and she'd kick him out once she was showered. But once she was dry and dressed, she paused by the bed and hesitated again. "Fuck it, I'll just let him sleep while I work," she muttered to herself.
It would be rude to shove him out the door half-asleep, and she was going to be late logging on if she didn't hurry. She palmed the 'Sphere controls on the wall, and the access panel slid open to reveal her workstation. She climbed into her chair, got settled as it molded itself to her body for perfect comfort, and once everything felt right, she slapped on the headband that allowed her to fully access the digital world.
Instantly, she was transported to her office, ready to begin her four-hour day. Her company didn't use customized avatars. It was a little old-fashioned maybe, but the big bosses felt people reacted better to realism, so what they saw was a replicated copy of her actual body in her own clothes.
She didn't really mind clients seeing her as she was, though some of her co-workers complained that they couldn't download fancy bodies to represent themselves. For her, it felt comfortable to be herself everywhere. She had her insecurities just like everyone else, but she was too stubborn to hide her flaws behind perfect forms or animal avatars.
If she had a bad hair day, they saw that too, so today, they would probably notice the shadows under her eyes from not enough sleep. Oh, well, it was worth it, and she didn't bother to hide the smug satisfied look on her face as she greeted her first client of the morning and began walking them through the complicated process of applying for a community transfer credit.
Boring work, but it went quickly, and when she emerged from her workstation, she found her visitor was gone. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed, maybe some combination of both. It occurred to her that she'd never given him her contact info, and being a Rustic, maybe he hadn't known how to use the digital whiteboard on the wall to leave a note. People always said they were backward when it came to tech.
She was already wondering if he'd be at the club and how early she should show up when her door chimed. A rare enough event that it startled her, and she opened it before checking to see who it was and then just stared. He was back, looking showered, in a new outfit, and carrying a bag that smelled like food.
"You seemed busy, so I went out and grabbed some food," he explained as he waved the bulging bag.
She continued to stare for an embarrassingly long time before she shook herself out of it. "Yeah, I had to work. Sorry." She wasn't sure why she was apologizing, but she stepped back so he could enter, and they ended up spending the afternoon together while she showed him around the city. She wasn't entirely sure how it happened. She wasn't really the tour guide type, but he had a way of getting what he wanted it seemed.
After a while, she relaxed and let herself enjoy it. He kept his dominance in check like he'd promised and let her lead as they visited the social and entertainment centers, the museums, and anything else she could think of that might not be mind-numbingly boring—for her anyway. He seemed to enjoy the sights no matter how mundane they might be. She had to keep reminding herself that he lived out in the rural zones with the rest of the Rustics who didn't want to conform to city life.
She might have looked down on anyone else in his position, but he made it seem charming. She laughed more throughout the day with him than she had in longer than she could remember. It was interesting to see the familiar old sights she'd grown up with through new eyes, and he had a way of asking the most intriguing questions—things she'd never thought to consider. It was a fun day, she could admit that, and did as they followed a crowd of people onto the commuter and found a pair of seats together at the back of the car.
"I had fun today. Um, I don't think I've ever seen someone enjoy a museum so much. I guess there really isn't much to do out there, huh?"
He laughed, half-turning in the seat to look at her with a slight grin. "Well, let's just say things are different where I'm from."
"I thought we'd swing back to my place so I could take a quick shower and change, and then we can take my SDV over to the club." She paused, "I mean, if you still want to. I know it's been a long day."
He leaned in, whispering close to her ear, "Oh, I want. I have plans for you, girl."
The words sent a bolt of excitement right through her. Her heart rate immediately picked up and she squirmed in her seat. She would play every day if she could, and that persistent need that she held back most of the time began to creep forward, priming her for the evening's entertainment.
"Thinking about it already, aren't you?"
She cleared her throat, saying, "No, not really," in the most casual off-hand tone she could manage.
"Good. It's probably better if you don't. I wouldn't want you to start picturing me dragging a whip across your skin while you're bound. Helpless." He didn't bother to whisper this time and she noticed a few curious looks coming their way. Luckily, she had no shame and was immune to that kind of embarrassment.
No, that wasn't what made her uncomfortable. She just hated how obvious it was that he could make her wet with just a few words. He had enough power as it was, so she didn't comment, instead turning to look at the scrolling ad board until she calmed down enough to be rational about all of this.
He sat back in his seat and his glance dropped to settle on her hands as they fiddled nervously in her lap, her legs pressed tightly together as they tried to soothe the low throbbing pulse that had started between her thighs. When she looked back at him, he met her eyes and gave her a wicked smirk to show her he hadn't been fooled.
Now that was embarrassing, and she had to work to ignore the heat climbing up her neck and flooding her cheeks with a red glow that would proclaim the effect he had on her—body and emotion both dancing to his tune no matter how much she tried to resist.
It irritated her enough that she decided to get a little revenge to show him that he didn't know as much as he thought he did. The commuter slowed and the doors opened to let passengers on and off. She watched the signal and waited as it counted down. When the yellow warning light came on, she suddenly jumped up and darted out the door just in time to leave him trapped inside.
She waved cheerfully at his confused face in the window before it picked up speed and was nothing but a blur, and then she called a public car to take her the rest of the way home. It wasn't until she settled into the backseat, nose wrinkled against the heavy sanitizer smell, that it occurred to her she might have gone too far.
It wasn't like she'd put him in any danger, but maybe it was a mean trick to play. A guy from the rurals was going to be confused about public transportation, but someone would sort him out—and he could always call a car if he couldn't figure out the simple schedule. Since he had her address, she expected him to show up there a few minutes behind her with an annoyed look on his face, but he didn't.
She jumped in the shower and changed into something comfortable for the club and then waited a few more minutes in case it had taken him longer to figure out how to manage the commuter by himself. When he didn't arrive, it occurred to her that she might have pissed him off enough that he'd decided not to come—and that was going to be a major disappointment.
Finally, after an hour of waiting, she decided to go out anyway since he'd started a fire she needed to put out one way or the other. "Stupid Doms," she muttered to herself as she slid into her car and told it where to go. Some of them had such fragile egos, and the moment you embarrassed them, suddenly they were all offended.
By the time sh
e was walking through the door, she'd given up feeling guilty about the prank she'd played and had worked herself up into being angry at him for ruining her fun time just because he couldn't take a joke. And she was aware, in the more rational part of her mind, that it made no sense, she just didn't care at that moment.
She'd been more excited than she wanted to admit about scening with him again, and as her eyes scanned over the people, she realized it was his tall form she was hoping to see waiting for her. She moved through the room and a couple of people waved at her, but the storm clouds in her expression must have warned them off because no one approached.
A complete circuit of the downstairs confirmed what she'd already suspected—he wasn't there. There were other potential playmates available. She saw Mick eying her as she passed, but the husky blond guy was a relative newbie to the scene, and anything more than spanking made him uncomfortable. Miss Sienna was there running a coiled whip through her hands, but it looked like she already had a few playmates lining up.
There were others and it was early yet. Plenty more would walk through the doors before long, but she felt unsettled and unhappy. The disappointment over her expected scene falling through weighed on her, and for the first time, she considered going home without playing at all.
Then a heavy hand settled on her shoulder and a voice whispered, "Isn't it customary to let the other players know when you're going to play a game of Hunt and Catch?"
She jerked away from the touch, spinning around ready to snap at whoever had grabbed her, but before she caught sight of him, she realized she already recognized the voice. "Trev, you came!" she said, blurting the words in surprise.
One eyebrow quirked, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "I would have been here sooner, but someone decided to leave me alone in the middle of a city I'd never visited before." Was there annoyance there? She couldn't tell; his voice was deceptively hard to read.
"Was that what it was? A game. I thought it was me leaving because you were embarrassing me in public," she said, allowing a hint of arrogance to creep into her voice as she tossed her hair back over her shoulder.
"It had to be a game, because otherwise I'd be angry to be left like that and I would probably turn around and walk out the door to pay you back for the rudeness. But if it was just playing, well then, I could work out my frustrations on your ass instead. So?" There was a tightness in the way he held his body, a stern turn of his lips making them seem cruel and it promised things that made her hot in all the right places.
She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, thinking. She so badly wanted the upper hand here. He was hinting at punishing her by leaving and maybe if he stayed too; she knew he was. Punishment, discipline, that was all part of the submissive package and those weren't games she played. The feelings they raised were just too intense.
She should call his bluff, but her body was aching and hungry. She took a deep breath and pushed her pride down for the moment. "You're right. It was a game. What did you call it? Hunt and Catch? We call it Hide and Seek here."
A slow grin crept across his face. "In our game, the prey—that would be you—runs off and hides. The hunter—that's me—has to track down the prey, and when he finds her…" He let the words trail off, but they had the desired effect.
She swallowed hard and shifted nervously. Her fingers twisted and rolled the hem of the short one-piece dress she'd worn, but at least her voice didn't shake when she asked, "What? What does he do when he finds her?"
"Anything he wants, of course, and she has to obey if she wants to be rewarded." There was way too much weight given to the word 'obey' and she knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted her submission, if only for the night.
And if she wanted him, she'd have to give in. It was against her nature and her personal rules, but the moment he said it, something tightened inside of her. She'd backed herself into a corner and was just now realizing that no matter what her answer had been, he was always going to come out on top. The righteous anger she'd built up earlier had vanished and left nothing in its place for her to use against him.
She had been a brat. He'd called her on it, and now she'd named herself his prey. She could see the amusement dancing in his dark eyes as he waited, letting her—no, forcing her—to draw the information she wanted from him.
"Well, you caught me; so now what?" she asked with a heavy sigh.
"I really feel like you weren't beaten enough last night, what do you think?" he asked. The way the word 'beaten' rolled off his tongue, it was like he was savoring both syllables, and she swallowed hard and wondered how he'd known it was one of her hot buttons.
It was so raw, that word. So indelicate and so very accurate for what she wanted from him.
Around the club scene, everyone was always so careful about their wording. It was all 'Do you want to play?' and 'Can I spank you?' just as though they were inviting you out for coffee and not asking if they could cause you pain. No one wanted to sound like they were indulging in anything barbaric, so no one ever used that word, and she didn't really understand because she loved it.
She didn't want to 'play'. That felt too mild for the serious and intense scenes she enjoyed. A beating that would rip her out of the mundane world and send her flying on endorphins was what she needed. She cleared her throat and tried to still her shaking hands by pressing them down against her thighs. Please, please, I need this, she thought.
What she said was, "No, I don't think I was either. What did you have in mind?"
"Strip."
She considered telling him off for giving her an order instead of asking and for making this more difficult than it had to be, but the word 'obey' echoed in her head. Obey, right, she thought. Or maybe she said it out loud because he laughed. She shot him a glare that didn't seem to bother him at all, and then she stripped off the dress, pulling it over her head with one motion. All she wore underneath was that one scrap of panty keeping her from breaking the no nudity rule, and he nodded.
"Good girl."
It was all she could do not to snarl at that endearment, and the wicked smile he sent her way made it clear that he'd expected that response. He took her by the arm and led her to the back of the club, and even though she knew damn well he couldn't be that familiar with the layout, he seemed to know exactly where he was going and moved with a confident stride. People automatically got out of his way and let him pass; she wondered if they could all feel the Dominant vibe he put out.
Tucked away in the back corner, was a medical table with stirrups and restraints attached; she recognized his bag of toys sitting there, claiming the spot for them. So, he had to have gotten there before her after all. He stopped at the foot of the table and turned her away from him. His hands were warm against her bare skin as he traced the few welts that remained from the night before.
"Your back marks well," he commented, but any chance of replying was wiped from her mind as he began to drag something sharp lightly along the extra sensitive line of each welt. A shiver rolled violently down her back and she jerked, crying out, not in pain, but in pleasure.
"Fuck fuck fuck, yes. I love that. Don't stop." The words were whimpered with need, but she didn't care. It felt so good, it was almost unbearable. She could feel the flimsy material between her legs soaking through, and her knees felt weak. She grabbed the edge of the table with both hands and held on while her body twisted and writhed like a cat in heat.
He stopped and she cursed again, but not in the same purring tone she'd used before. She turned to look at him and he shook his head. "I'm pretty sure the prey isn't supposed to swear at the captor and call him names. I mean, you are under my control at the moment and I could get mean," he commented in a neutral tone like he was just listing facts, not like he was particularly annoyed about it.
She snorted, "You must be used to some pretty docile prey if that's what you were expecting. Sorry, Rusty, not my style." And she laughed, looking smug.
"Rusty?"
"Yeah,
you know, short for Rustic? I mean, that suits you better than Trev. Is Trev even a real name?"
"Yes, it's a real name."
She gave him a skeptical look; after all, using nicknames or fake names wasn't uncommon in the BDSM world. It was a lot more accepted than it used to be, but there were still people who didn't like to advertise their kink. "Is it short for something?"
A shadow crossed his face and his eyes narrowed. For a second, she thought she'd actually made him angry, but she couldn't figure out how. She hadn't been trying to, for a change.
When he replied, the words were terse, bitten off sharply, "No. It's just Trev, but you can call me Sir if you like." He waved a dismissive hand as she told him just how unlikely that was. "Any limits I should be aware of?"
It seemed such an odd question to ask when they'd already played together, but it made her wonder what he had on the agenda. He was still unsmiling, and instead of being nervous that she'd pushed too far, like a normal person, she was just excited at the idea that he might be harsher because of it. The whipping had been satisfying. The spanking had been long and mostly pleasant—but they were just the tip of the iceberg when it came to kink, and her eyes flicked to the table, considering how many different ways it could be used.
"No blood, no bodily fluids, and no scars—plus the club rules," she said, shrugging. It was the standard 'yuck' list most people gave.
He slapped the padded surface of the table lightly and gestured to her to climb up. "Get comfortable on your back while I get things ready. Feet in the stirrups." He snagged his bag, moving it to the floor to make room for her.
"Are we going to play doctor?" she asked, using a teasing tone to try to coax a hint out of him.
He ignored the question and he didn't fasten the restraints at her ankles and wrists until he pulled what he needed from the bag and began to lay things out on the rolling tray that went with the medical play. She watched with interest as he began to unload a variety of toys—some were made for pleasure and some…were not.
