by Elia Winters
In the golden light of this room, her blush was much more prominent, the deep red of shyness indicating that yeah, this was her real fantasy.
He’d never given much thought to this kind of thing. BDSM was something other people did, people with leather and whips, who were really into pain. He wasn’t really into pain, giving or receiving. Seeing Abby hurt would be a huge turnoff. And telling her what to do? What if she hated the idea of it? She’d said she could use a safe word, but even so, he’d have to take charge on everything. He would need to be firm with her, to tell her things and make her obey.
If he’d been in that room with her tonight, he could have been telling her what to do, commanding her to touch herself in a certain way. She would have obeyed him, yielding her pleasure to his wishes, trusting him to take care of her.
His cock twitched, just a bit, blood rushing into his too-sensitive shaft.
Oh.
“Okay.”
Abby raised one eyebrow. “Okay? You’ll do it?”
“Yes.” He’d have to do some research, for sure, figure out more about this BDSM thing and what Abby might like. “But if you want to try this with me in the future, I think we should go to the dungeon now and watch.”
Abby blinked, mouth open, and then picked up her drink and downed the rest of it in one gulp. She shivered, from the alcohol or from nerves, he couldn’t be sure. “All right. Let’s go.”
The dungeon, ironically set up on the top floor instead of in the basement, had a posted list of rules next to the staircase that resembled the rules from the hostess, but more complete. There were additional regulations about medical play, needles, blood, stuff he didn’t even want to contemplate because it was so far outside of his interests. But this baseline idea of commanding her and making her obey, he could do that. While they were in a building with an actual dungeon, they’d be foolish not to check it out.
The staircase opened up directly into an open loft space lit with dim red lighting, music steadily pumping through the space. The room was filled with furniture, different structures Sam didn’t recognize but whose use was pretty obvious. A bench near them sat empty, and he stepped closer. The workmanship was solid, carved hardwood frame and smooth leather padding, metal eyelets for attaching cuffs.
Behind him, Abby started laughing, making him turn. “Did you seriously just examine the furniture before you noticed the naked people?”
Right, naked people. More than half the structures were occupied, a lot of action taking place all around them, and he’d checked out the bench. He had to laugh at himself. “I’m into design. I can’t help it.” He took her hand and pulled her over to an empty couch. “Come on. Let’s sit and watch.”
Most of the action in this room was impact related: moaning people were being hit with a variety of objects: hands, paddles, crops, other things he didn’t know the names of. Most were bound. Off to one side, a woman was tying up her female partner in an elaborate rope harness, preparing to suspend her from a giant wooden frame. Sam’s attention gravitated toward the neatness of her rope work, the smooth motions of her hands as she wove cord into knots.
“Is this something you’ve done before?” he asked. “Your other partners ever tie you up or spank you?”
“Not really.” She shifted, leaning against him. Her whole demeanor was more relaxed than he’d expected, being surrounded by this kind of ambiance. “I had a boyfriend who’d spank my ass a little bit during sex, but it wasn’t this kind of thing.”
“So why do you think you’d like it?”
Abby paused, watching a couple over in the corner. She was tied to a large upright wooden X on the wall, blindfolded, her nipples weighted with painful-looking clamps. Her partner held a vibrator up between her legs, pressed against her, and her pleading became loud enough to hear as they watched.
“Please, Sir, please let me come,” she sobbed, crying and twisting.
“No.” He pulled the vibrator away, and she sagged in her bonds, her cries pitiful. After a moment, he pressed the toy against her once more.
She ratcheted quickly to the edge again, muscles tensing, back arching, and her thighs began to quiver. “Please,” she begged once more. “Please let me come.”
He pulled the vibrator away again. “No.”
Next to him, Abby had gone very still. She watched with a kind of hypnotized expression, transfixed by the scene, and every muscle in her body was as tense as if she were the one experiencing this kind of torture. It was like she’d forgotten that he’d asked her a question. Maybe she’d forgotten he was even here. The man with the vibrator tortured the woman over and over, denying her five more times before she was a whimpering, incoherent mess. Then he took the toy away and began to stroke her with his fingers, light touches that also had her soon sobbing and writhing.
“What would you do to come?” he asked, loud enough for the room to hear.
“Anything,” she begged, thrusting into his hand.
“When do you get to come?”
She responded immediately. “When it pleases you, Sir.”
Abby’s breath was shallow, her eyes dilated, hands clenched on her thighs as she watched them. In the time since they’d sat down, she’d sat up straighter, almost leaning forward, captivated.
Sam stroked a gentle hand down her back, reminding her that he was next to her, and she glanced over before looking back at the scene. She’d done this to herself, back in the room downstairs: held off her orgasm impossibly long. She wanted him to control her. Maybe he could do it like this. He could tease her, get her needy and desperate, just like the woman across the room right now, begging and squirming on the hands of that man. Her Dom. Abby was so controlled, even in her playfulness. He could take that control away from her, and she wanted him to do so. She’d shown hints of it before and now said it outright. He could strip that composed exterior down and make her submit. Thinking about this had him half hard again.
He leaned closer to Abby’s ear. “You wish you were her?”
Abby’s lust-blown eyes were all the confirmation he needed. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Do you like the thought of me controlling you like that?” Sam’s heart had begun beating faster, too, knocking against his ribs.
Abby licked her lips. “Yeah. But I can’t really picture it.”
Of course she couldn’t picture it. He’d been sweet, loving, and affectionate, ten years of compassion, and apparently that meant she couldn’t see him as anything other than her caring husband. That was good, in so many ways. But he could see the appeal of deviating from that standard, shifting from her sweet lover to the controlling Dom who forced her to submit to more pleasure than she could take. And if it was out of his comfort zone? Fine. He could step outside his comfort zone and show her that she’d been underestimating him all this time.
The girl on the X sobbed again, and they both looked back toward the wall. “Do you think he’ll let her come?” Sam asked.
“Fuck, I hope so,” Abby said quietly. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
On a hunch, Sam gathered a fistful of her hair. He squeezed at the root, pulling her hair just enough that she gasped and followed his hand. That took his dick from half-mast to fully hard. “I think you’ll take it as long as I tell you to watch.”
Abby gasped, an audible intake of breath so loud that someone nearby turned to look at them, but she had eyes only for Sam. Her lips twitched in a small smile. “Yes, Sir.”
His grip slackened, a sudden flood of arousal taking his breath away. Those words sounded so good on her lips. Conflicting feelings rose up inside him: he shouldn’t want her to submit, but he did; he wanted to feel that rush of power from knowing she would do what he told her.
“Suck my cock.”
The words tumbled out, and Abby waited, like she still wanted to see if he meant them. Still with his hand in her hair, he squeezed once more, making her wince but also moan. He didn’t like seeing her wince, but the moan we
nt straight to his erection. With fumbling fingers, she undid his fly.
He hadn’t expected to do this, definitely hadn’t expected to push her mouth down onto his cock, but he was guiding her head before conscious thought caught up. Her mouth was sweet, hot, and so eager. He’d just come a little while ago, and his erection was too sensitive, almost painful, but he wanted this. He wanted to see what she would do.
Releasing his tight grip on her hair, he leaned back on the couch, trying to catch his breath as she worked him over. She looked so good bent over his lap, red hair spread across his trousers and the couch. The sense of control went right to his head, spinning up his arousal even faster than the sweet pressure of her mouth around his length.
Against the wall, the man had picked up the vibrator again and had it pressed between his crying partner’s legs. Her begging sounded so sweet. Abby would sound so good like that, begging to come, raw and vulnerable and completely at his mercy. He’d never really thought about it before, and now, he rolled it over and over in his mind, losing himself in the multiple sensations of Abby’s hot mouth and the other woman’s sweet pleading, until he came in a gut-punch of pleasure that blanked out everything but overwhelming release.
Abby lifted her head off him, brushing her hair back, her lips swollen and red and her eyes wide with lust. They both watched as the Dom across the room finally, finally said “Yes” and let his partner come.
Abby sagged, turning her attention back to Sam as he tucked himself back into his pants. “That was so hot,” she said, eyes sparkling. “I’m soaking wet.”
The idea came to him all at once. “I want you to stay that way.”
Abby tipped her head to the side. “Okay?”
“I mean. Until I tell you otherwise, I don’t want you to come.”
Abby’s mouth fell open. “But…I’m so turned on.”
That little bit of neediness in her voice was so hot, even though he’d just come. She said she wanted to give up control, and he couldn’t think of anything hotter than getting her worked up and desperate.
Maybe it was mean. This felt dark, building up her arousal and then keeping her from satisfying it. He wasn’t a cruel guy. Normally, it wasn’t in him to deny her even the slightest thing she wanted. She didn’t ask for much, either, content in the day-to-day life they’d woven together.
But now, she’d revealed that she did want more. She wanted something kinky, and controlling, and naughtier than they’d ever done before. If she really wanted that, if she really wanted to submit to him, she was going to find out what that meant. Something controlling welled up inside him, the part of him that got hard thinking about her begging him for pleasure.
“I know you’re turned on. I like it.” He brushed her hair back and smiled. “Unless, of course, you’d rather call all this off. But if you want me to control you, then I’m going to control you.”
Abby’s eyes narrowed, and she smiled a wicked, challenging smile. “Yes, Sir.”
Chapter Four
Abby had not been expecting Sam to go for this. BDSM was the thing he was going to balk at, the gentle, “Hon, that’s too far” that she expected to hear. Yeah, it was one of her fantasies, but she’d brought it up in the first place because she’d half expected him to draw the line then. The other half of her had been secretly hoping he wouldn’t, but she tried not to delve into that part of her mind that much. He was already shaking up her expectations. She didn’t know how much more “other side of Sam” she was ready for.
Instead of being put off, though, he’d been intrigued. He’d suggested they go to the dungeon, of all places, and then he’d pulled out some grade-A mind fucking without any effort at all. Who the hell was this guy?
Worst of all, he hadn’t brought it up again all week since they’d returned from their weekend in Boston. Every night before bed, he was reading something, and his only answer to her had been, “research.”
Worst of all was not being able to come. She’d been so turned on, going down on him in the dungeon, and he’d forbidden her orgasm, lighting up her kinks like a Christmas tree. It was driving her crazy in the best way, but she was starting to get antsy. It had been a whole week, now, with no signs of him bringing it up again. She didn’t even play with herself that much! Being told not to come, though, made her want it more than ever. Maybe he was waiting for her to ask. She’d considered asking him, last night, when she was lying in bed all twitchy and needy. But that felt like admitting defeat, and she wasn’t about to do that. Instead, she suffered in silence, and had overwhelming sex dreams for the rest of the night. Today, Saturday, she’d been restless all day, and even some time at the pottery studio that morning hadn’t calmed her down. He had to be gearing up for something tonight, right? God, she didn’t want to wait any more days.
After dinner, when they were reading on the couch, he finally looked up from his tablet. His expression was neutral, calm, but her own nerves already had her jumpy. He looked her up and down and then nodded, like he was deciding something.
“Go in the other room, take off your clothes, and play with yourself.”
Abby fumbled her book. Was he serious? She stared hard at him, because it wouldn’t be difficult to imagine him suddenly laughing and telling her he was teasing. His face didn’t imply teasing, though. He looked deadly serious.
“Do you not understand? Or are you not good at following orders?”
She blushed, heat rushing to her face, and set her book aside to go to the bedroom down the hall. He didn’t follow her. Undressing alone, different emotions of embarrassment and curiosity warred for her attention. This felt silly, but she also wanted more of it. She wanted to see where this went. She left her clothes in a pile on the floor and, naked, stretched out on top of the comforter and lay back.
Her pussy was soaking already, and she hadn’t even touched herself. Hadn’t touched herself much at all this week, since touching herself would undoubtedly make it worse. Once or twice, she hadn’t been able to resist, her fingers slipping over her sensitive clit and making her breath catch. Now, ordered to play, she lingered in slow, deliberate circles to draw out the feeling.
He hadn’t given her permission to come. That detail nagged at her as she lay here, trying and failing to keep the thick pull of arousal at bay. He had told her to play with herself and not given any other instructions. He might not come in here at all. He might wait an hour, or more, letting her linger on the edge of orgasm without permission, and then tell her to come watch television. Fuck, he wouldn’t do that, would he? She’d told him she was into that kind of control, so…he might.
The uncertainty sent shivers and tingles all throughout her body, as if the slow circles of her fingers against her clit weren’t already doing that. This might kill her, this kind of anticipation without resolution. Maybe he knew that. Maybe he was better at this than he’d let on. Maybe instead of pushing him to his edge, getting him to admit he was out of his depth, she was the one out of her depth.
She hadn’t even heard him come in until his soft voice said, “Good girl” from the doorway. Her eyes flashed open. He leaned against the doorjamb, calm, self-possessed, looking completely at ease. She lay there naked on the bed, and he stood fully clothed, watching her touch herself in quiet desperation and need. His gaze drew her in, locked with hers, and she couldn’t look away, caught up in the magnetism until he broke the stare to come sit beside her on the bed.
The first touch of his fingertips through her hair hit her like a jolt. He brushed her red hair back from her face, back against the pillow. Her hand slowed between her legs as his actions distracted her. “Keep going,” he said, not breaking eye contact. She obeyed, touching herself again. How could he look this passive, this dispassionate, when she was a worked-up ball of electricity?
“I’ve been doing a lot of reading this week.” Sam continued to stroke Abby’s hair, gentle caresses at odds with the burning need building in her blood. “I’ve been researching this fantasy of yours an
d how best to fulfill it. I’ve spent days looking into power exchange, reading blogs and stories, investigating different perspectives. You know I’m nothing if not thorough.”
His comment made her smile, a bit of the tension easing. “It’s true.”
“Mmm.” He lifted his chin. “Don’t speak unless I ask you a question.”
Oh fuck. She gasped, a stab of please take me now racing through her. Just that bit of control, being asked not to speak, and she was twitching at the edge of orgasm. She had to back off, slow her fingers on her clit, quiet her breathing. She couldn’t ask to come. He hadn’t given her permission. She was going to explode, and they hadn’t even done anything yet.
“Good girl,” he said again, and she flushed. “Do you like it when I say ‘good girl’? Truthfully.”
“Yes, Sir.” She tried out the words, the honorific, and Sam smiled wider.
“I could get used to that.” He looked her up and down. “Look at you. You’re so beautiful. So flushed. I bet you want to come, don’t you?”
He’d asked her a question. She could answer, but even answering feel like admitting too much. “Yes, Sir.”
“Get close for me. Right to the edge of an orgasm. Tell me when you’re there.”
Being watched like this felt different than it had in the sex club, where she couldn’t see his expression. His intense focus, paying attention to nothing but her, broached a new level of intimacy, like her soul was naked rather than just her body. Tight, firm circles over her clit had her squirming, the pressure of a week’s denial building up inside her until she had to ease up, her pussy already starting to twitch. “I’m there.” Her eyelids slipped closed, her whole body centering in on this heavy pleasure thrumming deep inside her.