We pulled through the gate that warned of the danger of electrocution ahead—a particularly smart touch on Neil’s part to conceal the building
“We’d like to film everything this evening if you don’t mind.” It sounded like a casual request because it was; Neil and I both loved having sex on camera, so the ask was no big deal. It made for some fantastic masturbation material later.
I agreed readily. “Obviously!”
“What we have planned is fairly hard tonight,” he warned. “Do you want to know before we proceed?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek as I considered. I loved being surprised, and the element of fear that came along with not knowing what would happen made it so much more exciting. “No. But I reserve the right to change my mind on that after we start if I have to.”
“Of course,” he said. “You know you always have the option to stop or change what we’re doing.”
We had that in common; if Neil or El-Mudad became uncomfortable with our game, they could end it just as I could. That trust and mutual consent was intoxicating and freeing.
When we entered the building, the large, octagonal center room blazed with gold-tinged light, reminding me of a ballroom from a costume drama.
Once, long before it had been developed into a baroque sex dungeon, Neil had gone two thousand extra miles for my birthday, transforming this room into a Beauty And The Beast fantasy complete with a copy of Belle’s big, poofy ball gown made just for me. He’d even gotten into the spirit with breeches and a blue velvet tailcoat, but he’d drawn the line at actually dressing up as the Beast. “I’m not a furry, Sophie,” he’d argued. We’d had a lavish dinner and dancing with an accompanying string quartet, then we’d watched the animated movie on a huge inflatable screen on our vast lawn. Neil hadn’t even fallen asleep or complained during it, which would have sufficed for a birthday present all on its own.
I wondered if El-Mudad would indulge me in Beastly role-play sometime.
Not that tonight wouldn’t be appropriately beastly. The main room had been set up a little differently than usual. The bondage frame faced the fireplace, above which was a brand new flat screen television. I secretly hoped it wasn’t permanent; I really liked the back-in-time vibe of the place.
There was a camera, too, aimed strategically at the frame, but with plenty of room between the two, and a laptop positioned discreetly on one of the ornate antique tables near the hearth.
“Go get your collar,” Neil said, already commanding as he set about turning everything on.
Despite our on-site security, the signs warning anyone away, and the fact that only Neil had a key to the building, my collar was always locked up tight in its own safe. That was because it had cost Neil three-point-six million dollars. It was custom made, sized perfectly to my neck—I didn’t even want to know how Neil had taken that measurement—and crafted out of platinum and large diamonds, resembling an anniversary ring. I punched in Neil’s code—the ever juvenile and easy to guess “6969”—and pulled the handle when the lock beeped. My collar was the only thing that resided inside, its impossibly sparkly diamonds twinkling at the first hint of light.
I took it out and traced the inscription on the inside. Property of Neil Elwood. He’d given the collar to me only weeks after we’d started dating. We’d been pretty serious about each other even then, but he’d waited and had it engraved with those possessive words when we’d gotten married, as part of my wedding present.
Since he hadn’t told me to put it on, I carried it carefully with me back to the center room, where he’d gotten Skype up and running. El-Mudad was already visible on the giant screen, the blue glow from his computer illuminating him. Even via an internet phone call, he was gorgeous. I could almost feel the crisp black cotton of his button-down shirt against my cheek. My body ached to feel his arms around me, and I had to blink back unexpected tears.
With any luck, there would be tears of a more satisfying kind later.
I loved it when they made me cry.
“Hello, Sophie,” he said with a slow smile. “Are you ready for your birthday present?”
I squeezed my thighs together in anticipation. “Oui, Monsieur.”
He laughed. “Already in the spirit.”
“You can see everything well?” Neil asked, reaching to adjust the camera.
“I can see what I need to,” El-Mudad answered. “Shall we begin?”
“Yes, I believe we shall.” Neil turned to me. No, not Neil. My Sir. Though they were one and the same, they were very, very different. “Give me your collar.”
I held it out to him, balancing the cool weight on my open palms, presenting him with the physical proof of my voluntary submission.
“Get on your knees, Sophie.”
“Yes, Sir.” I carefully arranged my skirt, though I seriously doubted my dress would survive the night. Ruining my clothes—especially if they were beautiful and fragile—was one of my Sir’s major turn-ons.
He stepped close, and I kept my eyes down. He put the collar around my neck and brushed my ponytail aside to fasten the latch. The moment it clicked shut, just slightly too tight, I took a deep breath to still my panic. I pushed aside the thought that we would probably need to get the collar resized; being self-conscious about my body would only keep me from getting into the submissive state I craved.
I deserved better than to mentally berate myself out of a good time with the men who loved me.
“Stay calm, Sophie,” Sir instructed, and gave me a minute to breathe through my initial jolt of worry. When my body relaxed, he wrapped my ponytail in his fist and tugged. “On your feet.”
I rose and let him lead me to stand in front of the frame. He took the scissors we kept handy for emergency rope extraction from a nearby table. “Your dress is very pretty.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
He slid the bottom blade of the open scissors along my collarbone and under the whisper-thin fabric. With a quick snip, the strap fell away. “What a shame.”
Another teasing slide of the cold metal against my chest and the other strap was gone, too, the dress gliding to the floor and leaving me in the corset and panties. Sir’s eyes lit up in recognition, but he said nothing.
“Beautiful,” El-Mudad praised me from the screen.
“Thank you, Monsieur.” Having two different names for my two different Doms helped avoid a lot of confusion. Since we’d first met El-Mudad in Paris, Monsieur was the most logical name for him.
“Turn,” Sir ordered, and when I did, he ran his palm over my bare skin above the back of the lingerie. “Mmm. Too bad we can’t leave you in this. But it doesn’t give us much room to work with.”
He stood behind me and jerked hard on the laces, loosening the corset until it, too, slid down my body. My nipples beaded in the comparatively chill air. The goosebumps that stood out on my skin, though, were wholly the result of my anticipation.
“So beautiful,” El-Mudad repeated. “If I were there, I would kiss every part of you.”
There were differences between my Doms that played out like a good cop, bad cop relationship. Or, more accurately, like an angel and a demon. Monsieur would shower me with kisses and praise among all the pain. Sir relished demeaning me and pushing me to my absolute limits of blissful agony. The dynamic had introduced thrills none of us had expected; I loved both styles of dominance, and with Monsieur providing touches of comfort in our play, Sir was free to be as sadistic as he pleased without worrying, as Neil sometimes did, that he was psychologically destroying me. Watching the harder stuff was enough kink for El-Mudad; though he did enjoy inflicting pain, he didn’t seem to care for the really rough, degrading treatment that I craved. All three of us had found a delightful way to service our needs together.
Sir leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Those pretty words can’t save you, remember that.”
“Yes, Sir,” I whimpered.
Sir stood behind me and pulled me up tight against his chest. “Put you
r arms around my neck,” he commanded, and I did, stretching my torso out long and vulnerable.
Sir tickled his fingers up and down my sides, and I struggled not to squirm away from him. He cupped my breasts and ran his thumbs over my nipples in firm, teasing circles.
“I wish I could touch you,” Monsieur said. “I wish I could kneel at your feet and eat your beautiful pussy while he held you captive. Imagine it, Sophie. Dangling between us, your legs over my shoulders, unable to move or escape.”
I did imagine it, and my cunt flooded. The crotch of my panties would be soaked before we even really got going.
Each stroke of Sir’s fingers across my breasts, around my nipples, sent darts of pleasure straight to my pelvis. I wanted to press my hips back, to grind on his cock, which was already hard and prodding against my backside through his trousers. I couldn’t, though, at least, not without being punished. Which wouldn’t be a bad thing, necessarily, but it would interrupt their plans a bit. Sir and Monsieur had no problem stopping a scene to discipline me thoroughly.
“I know you could come from this,” Sir taunted me. “I’ve made you do it before. I could do it now—“
“Oh yes, please,” I breathed.
“Did you just speak out of turn?” Monsieur demanded sternly.
“I did, Monsieur. I’m sorry.” I quickly added, “I’m sorry, Sir.”
“Not as sorry as you’ll be if you do it again,” Sir warned, but he didn’t stop touching me. “And you will tell me when you’re close. Do not come without our permission tonight, or you won’t come at all.”
Oh no.
A part of me doubted that they would deny me on my birthday, but another part feared they would. A very insistent, throbby part that already ached to be touched.
“Yes, Sir. Monsieur.”
“Tell me how it feels to have his hands on you.” Monsieur’s tone was wistful. “I’ve missed those hands. I’ve missed the way they feel on my cock. The way they feel on your cunt when I’m fucking it.”
I closed my eyes and swallowed, savoring the mental image. Riding El-Mudad while Neil knelt behind me, his arms around my hips to hold me open so that every stroke of El-Mudad’s shaft tormented my already painfully sensitive clit. The feeling of Neil’s fingers slipping in with El-Mudad’s cock, stretching me painfully. God, that had been an amazing night.
“Sophie, give Monsieur an answer,” Sir reminded me.
“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir, Monsieur.” I tried to collect my thoughts, though I was already spiraling deep into subspace. “It feels...good.” That wasn’t enough. I knew that when Sir pinched me viciously. I cried out.
“You can do better than that, Sophie,” Monsieur chided.
“It feels like...he’s touching everything. Every part of my body.” I wanted to writhe and arch into his hands. “My pussy, my clit, down to my toes. It makes me want...want...”
“To come?” Sir prompted.
“Mmhm,” I moaned.
“You will come tonight, Sophie,” Monsieur promised. “More than you probably wish to.”
He had no idea how much and how many times I longed to come when I was with them. I loved it when they turned pleasure into torment, when they punished me with the thing I desired most.
The low, tightening feeling in my groin warned me that I was perilously close to losing that chance, so I gasped out, “Sir, I’m going to come!”
He immediately pulled his hands away. “That was quite soon.”
“We have made her wait a long time,” Monsieur mused.
Too long. Sir and I still played together, but not as hard as when we were with Monsieur. Without him, something felt lacking for both of us, and though we had great sex just the two of us, we were both content to save our darkest sessions to share with him.
“Take the panties off, too,” Monsieur said, and when my hands moved to do so, he clucked his tongue. “I was talking to your Sir.”
Hooking his fingers through the legs, Sir dragged the velvet thong down my thighs as he knelt before me. I’d assumed he would rip it or cut it with the scissors, but instead, he guided one side, then the other, off each foot.
He held my panties to his nose and inhaled, the cloth muffling his appreciative growl. On the screen, Monsieur groaned as well.
“This is torment,” he near-whispered. “Not being there to touch you. To feel you, smell you.”
Sir pushed two fingers inside me. It was meant to be rough, but I was already so wet that they slid right in. I shuddered as he pumped his fingers back and forth. He withdrew, my wetness shining on his hand, and he licked it clean. “To taste her?”
“Yes,” Monsieur rasped. “Oh, yes.”
Though they were both giving me orders, Neil was engaging in a wholly different type of play with El-Mudad. Teasing him with denial, the way they both loved to tease me.
I spread my legs a little wider, hoping Sir would go directly to the source, but he had other plans. He guided me to stand perpendicular to the camera, then said, “On your knees.”
When he unzipped his fly, my mouth fell open automatically.
After years of being together, Neil’s generous size usually didn’t shock me. It certainly had the first time we’d been together. He had the most massive cock I’d ever seen in person, and I knew my jaw would ache, and my throat would be bruised once we were finished here tonight. When he tapped the broad head against my bottom lip, I had to stretch my mouth open wider. He pressed forward, just the tip, and I swirled my tongue around it.
“Very good, Sophie,” Sir said, his hands falling to my head. Since he couldn’t sink his fingers into my hair, he grasped my ponytail again, tightening it around his fist to pull me gently back and forth.
“I can’t wait to get my mouth on your cock, Sir,” Monsieur said. That made me a little self-conscious because I knew blow jobs were one of El-Mudad’s specialties, as far as Neil was concerned. I tried not to be jealous or threatened; of course, someone with a penis would give better blowjobs than someone who didn’t have one. Still, that small twinge of inadequacy spurred me on. I breathed through my nose and took Sir deep into my throat.
“Careful now,” he warned me, though he’d fucked my mouth brutally many, many times before. “Don’t wear yourself out.”
Ah, so that was the reason behind his caution. I would have smiled, had I been able to.
“I could watch this for hours, Sir,” Monsieur told him. “The way you try to keep so cool and collected while Sophie worships your cock. The way she chokes and gags. The way her lipstick smears across her face.”
“And she doesn’t care,” Sir said with a breathless laugh. “No matter how we muss her up, all she wants is...well, what do you want, Sophie?”
He pulled his cock free and allowed me a few moments to get my breath. I reached up to wipe away the drool on my chin, but he caught my hand before I could.
“I didn’t tell you to clean up. I asked you want you wanted.”
“I don’t want anything, Sir. You’ll tell me what I want, and I’ll do it.” Every word was true. In this place, I wanted nothing more than to fulfill their every command. Their every desire became my desire.
“That was a beautiful answer, Sophie,” Monsieur said, and my cunt ached to be filled by him.
“It was indeed,” Sir said with an indulgent smile. “But let’s not praise the slut overmuch.”
He gripped my jaw and forced my mouth open, and I lost myself in the rhythmic push and pull as he fucked my throat. I choked up saliva that ran down my chin and neck, gasping for breath whenever he withdrew to give me a break. I wanted to make him come, to swallow every drop that I could, but I knew he wouldn’t let me at this point. He would fuck me so that Monsieur could watch us and endure that torment, as well.
I don’t know how long I was on my knees, servicing my Sir, but it didn’t matter. Time became irrelevant once I surrendered to them completely. Whatever happened before the moment no longer existed. What would happen after was of no co
nsequence. I didn’t need to think of anything but what they asked of me, what they made me do. When Sir could no longer hold back his heavy breathing and groans of pleasure, he took his cock away, leaving me to whimper in disappointment.
Still holding me by the hair, he urged me to my feet. “Stand in front of the frame.”
He walked behind me, and a blindfold covered my eyes, startling me.
“This is the part of your present I came up with,” Monsieur said with a chuckle. “Do you trust me?”
“Always, Monsieur,” I whimpered. Not being able to see made me slightly panicky, but Sir’s steady hands holding my shoulders calmed me. He tenderly brushed the sides of my neck, then up to trace the delicate structures of my ears before positioning earbuds in them. So, that’s why I couldn’t find my noise-canceling Bluetooth pair for my morning run, I thought, filing it away. I’d chastise Neil about taking my things later when we weren’t playing a game.
“Stay there,” Sir said, moving away from me. A moment later, Monsieur’s voice filled my ears.
“Your Sir is leaving the room now,” Monsieur informed me, though I had already guessed from the footsteps I could hear over the headphones. “I don’t want you to worry about what he’s doing. That will be a surprise. So, right now you’ll take my orders.”
“Yes, Monsieur,” I answered breathlessly, my heart hammering. What was Sir doing that I couldn’t see or hear?
That’s not for you to worry about, I reminded myself.
“You will do to yourself what I would like to be there to do to you,” Monsieur went on. “With your index finger and thumb, take hold of your clitoris.”
I obeyed, though it was difficult to actually hold it, as slippery as everything was.
“Good,” he said. “Now, slowly, slide the hood back.”
I sucked in a breath as the cold air hit my fully exposed nerves.
“I wish I could be there to do that myself. To see you up close.” His disappointment and frustration echoed our own. “Now, slide it forward. Just as slowly.”
A delicious thrill rippled through me. A dangerous one. If I kept touching myself like this, eventually I would come. When I masturbated, this wasn’t how I did it. This was like someone else touching me. Like my Monsieur touching me.
The Boyfriend Page 3