by Poppy Flynn
Turning her again, Joel pointed them towards yet another scene. This time, a sub knelt with her wrists bound to her ankles and her head and shoulders pressed into a cushion on the platform while a Dom pounded into her from behind.
"And I want to do that to you," Joel grated, his voice uneven. "I want to do everything to you."
Desi's breath was coming in short, sharp pants; she could feel her sex engorged and pulsing, her body readying itself for him as her pussy gushed at his words, flooding the crotch of her shorts completely at the involuntary clenching of her abdominal muscles.
Joel moved his hand and gripped her mound through her clothing.
"You're wet," he inhaled. "I can smell you!"
She almost felt like she could orgasm just from continuing to listen to Joel's suggestive voice, his crude words, and the erotic pictures he was painting in her mind.
When he rubbed the heel of his hand against her pubic bone, she damned near detonated.
"Play with me!" It wasn't a question but a demand, and Desi no longer had the will to resist him.
"Yes!" she groaned breathlessly.
The single word was barely out of her mouth before Joel was dragging her determinedly off the dance floor.
Desi had to scamper to keep up with his long strides, and he grasped her hand securely, as if worried she might escape, and led her towards a wide steel staircase.
She caught an anxious look from Jake and smirks from Connor and Logan as he dragged her past without stopping, though it was obvious Jake was trying to get Joel's attention.
The three men made to follow, and Jake clearly wanted to say something, but they were separated from easy communication by the crowd in between them. Their presence made her feel slightly apprehensive, but not enough to override her ramped up desire, which, by now, was too strong even to heed those little voices in her conscience that were trying to tell her this was probably a bad idea.
Right now, she really didn't care. She wanted this; she wanted Joel; she wanted that tantalising orgasm he kept teasing her with. She wanted to be liberated. She wanted to feel! She wasn't going to let Joel break her heart all over again; she was way too cynical these days for that to happen. She just wanted to live this moment.
Joel led her to a room with a wide viewing window that stretched from wall to wall. The room was extra deep, and Desi realised that it was to allow the other patrons to watch from within without encroaching on the scene. She noticed as he tugged her inside that there was a reserved sign on the door and wondered exactly when he had managed to book it and ensure that it was available at just the right time.
"Kneel," he commanded as soon as she crossed the threshold, pointing to the only free corner, opposite the windows and away from the public viewing area at the end of the room.
Desi scurried to obey, sinking gracefully to her knees, opening them wide and bowing her head while she rested her hands, palm upwards, on her spread thighs in a classic submissive pose. It was unusual to be in this position while still clothed, but as Jake finally reached the doorway, she realised that the move was purposeful, the use of protocol effectively preventing Jake from speaking to her.
Jake wasn't that easily deterred, and Desi hid a smile at his protectiveness as he approached Joel, instead.
Chin resting on her chest, she watched from under her lashes as Joel anticipated Jake's objections and held a hand up to counter them before he even opened his mouth.
"She agreed. Verbally. She said yes, and she has her safe words."
Jake moved closer to Joel and said something too low for her to hear. Joel clenched his jaw and looked darkly at his cousin, then he nodded sharply just once, and Jake took a last look in her direction before heading back towards Logan and Connor.
Joel walked over to her and rested his hand on her hair. "Are you okay with an audience?" he queried.
A vivid thrill ran through her at the thought of being watched. In the past, she had always been quite an exhibitionist, but she was surprised at how much the idea still appealed to her after all this time.
Desi nodded her head in consent, and Joel reminded sharply, "I need to hear you, Desi. You will verbalise all your responses, except when I tell you specifically to keep quiet."
"Yes, Sir," she accepted.
"Master!" Joel corrected. "I wish you to address me as Master."
Desi was momentarily taken aback by the demand for a title that was more usual in committed relationships and hesitated a beat before responding.
"Yes…Master."
Joel chose to overlook the small pause that once would have earned her a swat for dithering. Perhaps he realised what a huge step it was for her to call him that. Instead, he headed for the door and secured it in the open position to indicate that spectators were welcome in the room and adjusted the efficient silver coloured blinds for the watchers behind the glass.
Desi took a surreptitious glance around the room, taking in what she could through her peripheral vision while she kept her head dipped.
It was a utilitarian space, in keeping with the industrial feel of the rest of the club. Desi vaguely wondered if all of the playrooms were the same. In truth, she found it a little too stark and rather lacking in comfort. It was scrupulously clean and well stocked and the equipment looked like it was a decent quality, but there was no character, and it was all very sterile.
There was no bed in the room, which was a little sad, in her opinion, just a wide steel table with a multitude of fixing points to secure a sub to. The floor looked like it was also made of steel, although she could tell there was some kind of glossy coating over it. It sloped slightly towards a drainage point, which Desi supposed guaranteed easy cleaning since she guessed it could all just be hosed down, but she personally found that a little off putting. Plus, it was more than a little uncomfortable. She hoped Joel didn't leave her down here for too long.
She groaned in silent appreciation as he shrugged out of his black leather waistcoat, admiring the play of sinewy muscles in his well-defined back as he deftly assembled the toys and equipment he planned to use from out of a metal storage locker. He looked utterly delicious in tight black leather that encased and defined his muscled thighs and buckled biker boots, his jet-black hair sexily tousled.
Desi imperceptibly extended her spine to try and get a better look at the items he was lining up, and it occurred to her that Joel didn't have his own toy bag with him, so, clearly, he hadn't intended to play. She still couldn't see anything from her diminished vantage point. She could, however, see Jake, Logan and Connor, who had slipped into the room to watch along with a crowd of other voyeurs, and her cheeks pinked slightly in embarrassment which was really quite ridiculous. Logan and Jake were no strangers to her scening with Joel. Hell, Jake had participated on more than one occasion! Maybe it was just her subconscious reminding her that she still had to argue with these men across a conference table.
Finally, Joel returned, extending his hand to help her up and Desi took it, rising on quivering legs.
"Have your limits changed?" he asked, and Desi couldn't help her surprise.
"You remember my limits, Master?" she asked before she could think better of it.
Joel yanked her head back by hair that was now strewn in curling disarray about her face and shoulders and Desi shivered in pleasure as her scalp lit up and invigorated her senses.
"I remember everything about you," he growled in her ear.
Desi swallowed at his revelations, and the fine hairs raised on the back of her neck. She closed her eyes and did a quick mental search of her limit list.
"No, Master, my limits haven't changed," she finally concluded.
"Good. What safe words are you using?"
"Stoplight system, Master." She referred to the standardised colour codes that were used consistently in all clubs. Red for stop, yellow to slow down, and green for good to go.
"Excellent, now strip!" he commanded.
"I'll need some help with the laces on my c
orset, Master," Desi whispered, her throat completely dry.
Joel walked behind her and went to work on the fastenings. His touch was unusually gentle and he stroked each expanse of bared skin with something akin to reverence.
Heat shuddered through Desi and warmed her belly. She'd never really realised it before, but whatever descriptions you might use to define her previous relationship with Joel—intense, explicit, uninhibited, extreme, graphic—nothing as conventional as gentleness would ever have been included, and Desi found that, now, it brought an unexpected lump to her throat and made that hardened shell around her heart start to melt just a little bit.
When he finished, she wriggled quickly out of her boy shorts, and Joel placed her clothing in a practical wire basket underneath the functional steel equipment table.
"Present," Joel directed, walking around her as she adopted the position which required her to stand with her legs shoulder width apart and hands clasped behind her head, which had the effect of thrusting her generous breasts out.
"Beautiful," Joel murmured, skimming his fingers across the collar she wore, before glancing behind him. "Isn't she beautiful, Jake?"
Jakes face was impassive, but his gaze locked with Desi's before he moved his focus to his cousin.
"Indeed," he replied evenly to a low murmur of agreement from the bystanders.
Joel moved directly in front of Desi and tapped her on the nose in an incongruous gesture of playfulness that belied his words. "Now, my sweet, no more noise from you. Not a question, not a sound, unless it is your safe word. Understand?"
Desi nodded her head; she knew this scenario.
Joel retrieved a blindfold from his back pocket and secured it around her eyes, trapping her with her roiling emotions and shutting out external distractions.
Desi took a deep breath and was surprised at how her jitteriness suddenly settled and her senses evened out. It was kind of like being suspended in a lukewarm vat of treacle, everything slowed. Her breathing regulated and her body calmed and an aura of wellbeing enfolded her. Within an instant, she felt secure. Home.
She heard the distinctive rattling of chain before Joel grasped her arms and drew them away from her head. He extended them in front of her, palms together, and she held the pose while he attached softly lined cuffs around her wrists and ran a finger along the inside to ensure they weren't too tight.
The second her brain acknowledged the confinement, a blast of heat thundered through her veins and an age-old yearning had her heart thumping so loudly she'd swear it could be heard. Desire, thick and hot, gathered in her stomach and her nipples tightened to hard brown buds. He stretched her up on tiptoes and attached the cuffs to the chain, then adjusted her stance carefully so that her heels just barely brushed the floor. Desi knew the position would prevent her knees from buckling underneath her. Finally, he cuffed her ankles and placed a spreader bar between her legs which he anchored to rings recessed in the floor.
"Don't move!" he whispered, his voice like a velvet glove stroking over her senses, but the statement might as well have been rhetorical, since the way he'd trussed her up pretty much ensured that she couldn't budge an inch. Still, she understood from many months of his training that he meant much more than that. He required that she didn't arch her back or flex her muscles or even flinch, regardless of the provocation, and that very idea, along with the physical reality of being restrained and helpless, had her abdominal muscles clenching and a wet heat pooling in her pussy while Jake's words regarding her submissive nature tickled at the corners of her mind. Still, she wondered if she was even capable of all that anymore. She wondered if Joel thought her capable or not. Then she felt the soft suede strands of a flogger brushing along her shoulders and down the centre of her back and all that was left in her mind was…wonder.
Desi slipped right back into the mind-set she needed, as if she had done this only yesterday. Filtering out everything around her, she slowed her breathing, parted her lips very slightly and relaxed her throat muscles.
In every flogging scene they had ever practiced, Joel had always started on her buttocks and she had no reason to believe that tonight would be any different. With that in mind, she readied her body for the first strike, knowing that he would probably start lightly and build up the intensity.
Joel drew the strands of the flogger around her waist and then up the centre of her torso, across her collar bone and then down to her breasts, stroking her skin and teasing her awareness.
Some parts of this dance were like code; when the flogger lifted away from her skin, Desi knew to expect the first blow.
The strands came down moderately hard on her right buttock just as she had expected and Joel used a symmetrical figure of eight motion to reflect the strike on the left, then moved in the same pattern down her thighs. He hit her harder than she'd predicted. After an eleven-year hiatus, she had imagined he would break her in gently. But maybe this was a test. Desi suspected that Joel had been trying to resist her just as much as she had been resisting him.
Maybe she was being set up to fail. Perversely, that thought just made her all the more determined. No way was Joel ever going to break her or humiliate her again. And right now, she felt nowhere close to broken. In fact, that first volley of falls had almost set her free. She was already starting to fly. She could feel the endorphins beginning to flood her system, and it seemed as if reaching subspace, where her pain threshold would increase even further, might be easier to find after all these years and not harder at all.
Joel played the flogger up her back, taking care to avoid the sensitive area around her kidneys and tailbone. She expected nothing less than the most diligent performance from him. Joel was a keen perfectionist. Maybe that's why she hadn't been good enough for him, too unrefined, too curvaceous and too unconventional. Desi felt her mood plummet and gave herself a mental kick. It didn't matter that she wasn't good enough for Joel. She only needed to be good enough for herself…and she was! She was successful and accomplished, and she was going to damn well own this scene!
Banishing thoughts of the past, Desi focused only on sensation. Joel had moved around her front, starting on her thighs and then jumping to her abdomen. Her nipples peaked in anticipation, but her pussy protested his evasion, yearning for the heat of his skill. But she knew it would come…and she could be patient.
The intensity of the orgasm was always in the build-up, the further Joel teased, the more he denied, the better the payoff. Desi knew it would be worth waiting for. Especially after all her years of drought. The culmination would be like precious water to her parched soul.
The fronds licked at her breasts, and her instinct was to lunge forward and meet the delicious fire that prickled her skin, to offer her chest for more. But that wasn't the way Joel wanted to play this scene, so she ruthlessly shoved the impulse down. She could feel the dampness pooling between her legs and knew it wouldn't be long before it coated her thighs. The image of everyone seeing her arousal titillated her even more, making her insides spasm and causing her to gush some more.
Joel returned to where he began, then removed her blindfold before starting all over again, but significantly harder this time.
Desi concentrated on controlling her body, knowing it wouldn't be long now until the accumulation of endorphins dulled her pain receptors, allowing Joel to thrash her all he liked while she, herself, floated in a euphoric haze.
The play of muscles across Joel's torso was mesmerizing as he swung his arm in a wide arc, his biceps flexed and retracted, his wrist flexible and practiced as they flicked and rotated like a great conductor, the sound of each individual strand hitting her slick skin, forming a different tone over taut muscle or soft curves and building together to make its own kind of music.
The sheen of sweat blooming across his skin only increased her appreciation, and Desi felt her stomach tighten as she watched his pecs surge and his beautiful six pack abs ripple.
Joel really was a beautiful specimen of a man.
As Desi watched him through half lidded eyes, she decided there really wasn't anything that could improve either his body or his looks. He would make beautiful babies. The thought surprised her a little, but the idea of bearing Joel's children made her lady parts curl even more with a startling yearning for something she hadn't even realised that she wanted. Maybe her biological clock was ticking louder than she had imagined.
The soft fronds of the flogger gained momentum, slapping against her body and heating her skin to flash point, and suddenly, she was there, suspended in that perfect moment which was both exhilarating and languid at the same time, encapsulated in her own private world of pure bliss. Everything around her ceased to exist, her thoughts, the room, the people, her problems. Every care she had in the world was obliterated. Her focus narrowed so that the scene itself became suddenly more intense, even while her awareness of pain vanished.
It was like being drunk or high, and in a way, she was. The dump of endorphins into her system, along with the release of epinephrine into her bloodstream from her adrenal glands, was the body's natural equivalent of morphine and produced a similar reaction.
Desi revelled in ecstasy, her heartbeat thudding in her ears, perspiration sheening her skin. Aware of the metamorphosis in her psyche, Joel swiftly brought the flogger down on her pussy, ramping up her desire and blasting her deeper into subspace.
Like an elastic band being wound tighter and tighter, Desi's cravings grew greater, her carnal hunger more extreme, and she longed for the cataclysmic detonation that she knew was so close.
Joel took her right to the edge as she knew he would, then just as she reached the crescendo, just as she was about to snap, the flogging ceased.
She wanted to scream at the denial; she wanted to beg for the release. It took her entire force of will to keep silent.
Joel's arm came around her waist, his skin cool against her heated flesh. As if from a distance, she heard the chain clink as he released her bonds.
The cuffs remained around her wrists, and he kept the spreader bar in place as he positioned her on her knees, then pushed her shoulders and face into a plump cushion. He positioned her so that her cheek rested on the soft material, her head adjusted to face the crowd. It didn't matter, she was oblivious to them all, her eyes unfocused and distracted. Just as he had demanded, she remained still and silent as he attached each individual wrist cuff to a ring at each end of the bar near her ankles, forcing her backside high and putting everything on display. Moisture trickled down her leg and Joel tracked it with his tongue, tracing it back to its source but denying her any further indulgence from his mouth.