“I’m not a sex slave,” I murmured, letting his fingers slowly lift the hem of my dress and brush across the tops of my thighs. “But you promised me two thousand dollars for seeing you outside the club, and I’ll need it up front.”
“So you’re a whore,” he said, so quietly I almost didn’t hear him. But I did.
“Call it what you want.” I put my hand over his before it snaked between my legs. “The money first.”
“Are you worth it?”
“I’m worth it, yes. Do you have it?”
With a peeved look, he took out his wallet and removed a stack of bills. He handed them to me, but before he let go, he said, “This is for sex, right? There are no rules about fluid exchange here?”
I hesitated. What were the rules here? I was whoring myself, which was a first. I accepted money for “sex” every night at Club Eden, but that was only mental sex, psychological fucking, spanking and toys and silly scenes, prostitution within the confines of the law. This man wanted actual prostitution, to penetrate me for money. More than once, I assumed.
“You have to use a condom,” I finally said. “For everything. And you can’t scar me or draw blood.”
“Jesus.” He let go of the money. “I don’t know what kind of people you usually hang out with, but I’m not into making chicks bleed.”
“Good. Do you have condoms?”
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handful. “They had them at the door of the club. Which is why I thought it was weird that no fucking was allowed.”
“Fucking’s allowed, only not with the staff. Couples fuck there all the time. Are you married?”
He laughed. “No.”
“Just like to fuck around? Try new things?”
He shrugged, looking at me almost defensively. “I have a friend. He’s really into this stuff.”
“And you wanted to give it a try?”
He laughed again. “Give it a try. Yes.”
I wasn’t sure what the fuck was so funny, but then his fingers were on me again, and he was drawing up my hem and discovering my thong.
“Okay,” I said. “Do you want me to help you, or do you want to do things on your own? I mean, do you want to fuck me as a dominant? You want me to be submissive for you?”
“Yes, I want you to be submissive. Like my…slave.”
“Okay. And you know what to… I mean, I can sort of teach you how to be an effective dom, if you want.”
“No, I kind of know.”
“From your friend?”
He nodded.
“He let you watch. And you liked it. He has a slave?”
“Yeah. Sort of.”
“Okay. But just so you know, this is just…business. For now, during this session, I’m your slave. Afterward I’m a person again.”
“You’re not really into this? In real life?”
“No, I mean, I am.” His hands, God, they were talented. He found my clit like a hound on the scent. It was getting harder to concentrate. “I…I love being submissive.”
“But on your own terms.”
“No. It’s not… I’m just not available right now.”
“You have a boyfriend.” He pulled my thong down, letting it fall at my feet.
“No. I don’t. I’m just not a lifestyler. I can’t be submissive all the time. I choose not to be.”
“Only sometimes. When someone’s paying you.”
“When I want to be submissive, I’m submissive. Is that enough for you?” I said, half-horny, half-annoyed by his insistent line of questioning.
“Yes. What’s your name?” he asked me then. “Is it really Little Nell?”
“It’s Nell. Just Nell.”
“Well, Nell,” said Mr. Gorgeous. “I just want to fuck you silly. Is that enough for you?”
“Yes, Master. I’m yours.”
I’m yours. I’ve said it a thousand times in my line of work, and it never fails to give me a shiver, make me a little wet. I’m yours, now what will you do with me?
“I want you to kneel down and suck me first.”
Mmm. Good line, delivered well, like a real dom. I was pretty certain he’d heard it from his “friend.” I hoped his friend was a really good lover, because I had a feeling I was about to reenact a scenario Mr. Gorgeous had already viewed and liked a lot. I felt, for a moment, that his friend was a third party in our illicit little rendezvous.
I took his shirt off first, selfishly, because I wanted to see him fully unclothed. Naked, perfect male. His abs were tight, defined bunches of muscle. I wanted to outline each one with my tongue and then lick him from his neck all the way down to his—
Focus.
I knelt and took my time undoing his belt and unbuttoning his seven-hundred-dollar jeans, daydreaming about doing him and his dom friend at the same time.
Rich boys and their naughty habits. Gorgeous looked to be in his early twenties. I was twenty-eight, and I didn’t think he was as old as me. Just a young rich boy sowing wild oats. I would show him wild if he wanted it. I’m sure he had no idea how horny I was.
By the time I got his pants off, he was already rock solid. I rolled on a condom as deftly and sexily as I could and took him in my mouth.
God, I wanted it. A big, hard cock jammed in the back of my throat. I’d had a cock like this, attached to a great, straight, dominant, loving man, but he’d left me. Douglas. I hadn’t been enough for him. I’d tried to be, but working at the club and needing time for myself, I had never been enough. But this man, he only wanted me right now. One night. One night, I could manage.
Well, manage was one word for it. I licked his rigid tool, reveling in its masculine power, exploring it from base to hard tip until he lost patience and nudged it between my lips. I salivated for him, opened wide for him to take me. For once I wasn’t even bothered by the bitter taste of latex. I was too enthralled by the way he completely filled my mouth. His musky, male scent sent me deep into the throes of submission, and the fact that he was a stranger added an extra kinky thrill. I wanted to give him the best hummer he’d ever had, one he’d remember when he was in his eighties. I wanted to show him how much I appreciated his perfect body.
I cupped his balls and tried to coax him deeper into my throat. He made a guttural noise and placed his hands on either side of my head, just light pressure. When I moaned, he tightened his hold and started to fuck my face. I faltered for a moment, terrified that I might gag, but he slowed and let me find a rhythm. I settled into accommodating his deep thrusts, and soon I managed to wrench some erotic groans from him. He stopped abruptly.
“I want to come on you.”
I pulled away and whipped off the condom. For two thousand bucks, sure. I expected the facial, but he yanked at my dress.
“I want to come on your tits.”
A tit man. Okay. He shot hot cum over my chest, and I received it like a gift. Douglas used to make me rub it all in and lick my hands. Gorgeous rubbed it in himself and got sidetracked pinching and squeezing my nipples. A tit man all the way. Ohhh…and I loved tit men. He leaned closer and I braced for pain, but instead he only tapped the taut peaks. Not flicked them. Tapped them. I’d never had my nipples tapped this way, and I was surprised by how intense it felt. It wasn’t pain. It was a tease. It made me fidget and left me craving more. With each light tap my clit throbbed. I moaned and leaned into him, desperate for some kind of relief, but he only stroked and tapped my nipples until they were hard as stones. Then he closed his fingers on them and twisted so hard a gasp of protest came to my lips. Fire shot straight to my center. He watched my reaction in a strange, detached manner.
“Do you have any of those, what do you call them? Clips? Clothespins?”
“I have some nipple clamps, Master.”
“Go get them. And don’t call me Master, that’s weird. Just call me Kyle.”
Mr. Kyle Gorgeous. Fitting. I didn’t know whether to crawl for the clamps or get up and go for them. Well, he wasn’t much of a dom. I go
t up and walked, and he didn’t correct me. I came back and placed them in his hands. They weren’t the most stringent pair I had, but he’d never know. I liked the more painful ones, but I didn’t know if he knew how long it was safe to leave them on.
I knelt down again, but he pulled me back up.
“I want you to look at my face while I put them on you. Look right at me.”
Again I felt the ghostly friend. I didn’t think Kyle had the imagination to come up with this on his own. He closed the clamps, one and then the other, on my hard, puckered nipples. The ache bloomed, then commuted into a rush of wetness between my legs. I gasped, staring at him. His blue eyes looked dark earlier, but now they were light and wide. He watched as if trying to gauge what I was thinking. I don’t know if he knew I was daydreaming about his friend.
“Do you like that?” he asked, tugging on the little beads that hung down from the silver clamps.
“Yes, Kyle. I like it a lot.”
“Shake your titties, push them together for me.”
I did. The hungry way he was looking at me really turned me on. He might not be a dom, but he was sexy. He put his hand between my legs, probing me roughly, and again the submissive inside me exulted. My mouth opened in a moan, and I let his fingers penetrate me as deeply as he wished. I was so wet, my pussy squelched against his fingers.
“You do like it, don’t you? You horny little slut.”
I stood still and let him take me with his hand. The pressure building in my belly was shooting up to my breasts, snaking down between my thighs. My legs trembled from the pleasure, so I thought I might fall if he didn’t support me. Each time his agile fingertip stroked over the little nub, my hips bucked forward in a plea. He tugged on the clamps again, and I gasped.
“I want you to come,” he said.
Thank God. I closed my eyes as he tugged and worked my clit with those talented fingers. Did I say he was gorgeous? His fingers were his best feature by far. I put my hands on his shoulders and moaned, thrusting my hips forward. I clung to him and let the rhythm of his fingers drive me higher. My body drew up tight and then convulsed in release.
“Yes, yes!” I mashed my head into his chest and almost closed my teeth on his golden skin. He held me up with strong hands as I rode out the waves of satisfaction. When I came back to my senses, I looked up into his eyes. He was still watching me in that intense way.
“That was cool,” he said.
I let out my breath in a rush. “Yes, it was.”
His hand was still clamped over my pussy. He looked down at his hard cock with a smirk. “But I’m not quite finished with you yet.”
“I sensed that.” I smiled.
His hand left my pussy to grasp my upper arm. He pulled me to the sofa and bent me over it.
It wasn’t the harem room, but I was finally about to get fucked. I watched over my shoulder as he rolled on a condom. He positioned his dick against my slit and pushed in to the hilt. I went up on my toes and moaned, then twitched my ass back against him. He began to fuck me. I panted and gripped the cushion. The head of his cock pummeled in and out, rubbing over my g-spot. My hips jerked as delicious sensation gathered into a teeming knot at my center.
“Oh…oh…” I couldn’t form words. The only sounds in my world were my incoherent exclamations and his urgent grunts. Warm pleasure suffused my entire body. My nipples tingled with a needful ache.
“Spread your legs.” I did, and he practically lifted me from the floor with the force of his thrusts. I felt like his creature, his object. I loved the way he was using me. I imagined I existed only to slake his lust. His hands clenched and unclenched on my hips as he pulled me back on his dick. Just as I was about to come, though, he withdrew. He ignored my wail of protest and put his hands on my shoulders. He pulled me from the couch and forced me to the floor on all fours. He knelt behind me and bent over my quivering back. I could feel his sweat-slickened abs against my skin as he whispered in my ear.
“Nell, can I fuck your ass?”
For two thousand dollars? Yes. I moaned and twitched my hips back against him. My pussy juice eased the way, but I still flinched when he worked the head in. I breathed through the pain and clenched my sphincter around him. I waited for him to suggest lube and gritted my teeth when he pressed on without it. The ache was acute but at the same time thrilled me to the core. I reached back to clutch at his thighs.
“Okay?” he asked.
I made a sound of assent and dropped my shoulders forward. He took it for the capitulation it was and slid his thick tool in to the hilt.
God, it had been far too long since I’d had a cock in my ass. I’d forgotten that terrifying, intoxicating feeling of being impaled. The pain of entry turned into unfolding pleasure that spread from my ass to my pussy and up to my nipples straining in the clamps. I tried hard not to start begging and talking dirty. You’re a submissive. Let him fuck you.
And he fucked me, slow and deep. He reached under me to flick at the nipple clamps, creating sparks of fire that resonated in my pelvis. Then came a series of quick thrusts that made me clench and moan, scrabble for purchase on the rough carpet. It was the surrender that mattered during anal, letting go and accepting my basest desires. I could barely remember my name, or his for that matter. He reached around and stroked my pussy while his cock stretched my tight hole. I felt his fingers delve into my wet slit and then search for my clit. He pinched it. I felt something inside me unfurl and go wild.
I cried out and came like a madwoman, jerking back hard against his hips. While I shuddered and shook through my climax, I felt his dick pulse in my ass. Mr. Kyle Gorgeous Talented Fingers rocked in me another moment and then finally went still. It was a long time before I became aware of the scratchy carpet under my skin.
He pulled away from me and found his way to my bathroom. I heard water running, a flush of the toilet. When he returned I was still exactly as he’d left me, cheek to the carpet with my ass in the air. When no directions were forthcoming, I righted myself and turned. He was looking at me with that same look from the club, studying, assessing.
“Thank you,” he said finally. “Um, should I take those off?” he asked, indicating the nipple clamps.
“Okay.” He did, almost gingerly. I drew in a halting breath as the blood flowed back to my nipples.
“Does that hurt? When they come off?”
“A little.”
“But you like that, huh? Being hurt?”
It was a simplification, but since I figured I’d never see him again, I gave him the simple answer. “Yes.”
He walked over to pick up his clothes. As he pulled his shirt on, I squelched the urge to rip it back off again. Farewell, hottest abs ever, I thought, then I realized he was talking to me.
“You’re a hot fuck. I thought you would be. I really enjoyed that a lot.”
“I did too.” It wasn’t exactly a BDSM scene, but it had been hot in its own way. A little tentative perhaps. If someone who fucked you in three holes one after the other could be called tentative.
“I think you’re a really good sub. I mean, aren’t you? You try hard at it. You like it for real.”
I nodded. Now that he was obviously leaving, I started to feel wistful. I knew he wasn’t going to be my new master or anything, but he had been fun. And he was as gorgeous as ever, even sweaty and fucked-out as he was.
“Can I get you some water?” I offered. “A beer?”
He looked at his watch. “You know what? It’s late. I’ve got to be going. Thanks, though.”
I watched him buckle his belt, lace up his shoes, straighten his collar, all business now. I thought about asking him if it was worth the two thousand bucks, but I didn’t want to hear him say no, or hear him say yes while his body language clearly said no. He was no better dom now than he was when he’d arrived, but I got the clear feeling he didn’t really care about that. I don’t know if he’d gotten what he paid the two thousand bucks for, but if he hadn’t, he didn’t blam
e me, I supposed.
So why did I feel so guilty? Or did I feel sad? Or did I just feel ashamed?
I’d just sold myself for two thousand dollars. And why? Because I had an itch to scratch.
And this gorgeous guy walking out my door?
I guess he’d just had an itch too.
Chapter Two
The Job
‡
The next day, though, a whole lot more got scratched than my itch. Joel met me at the door when I arrived at Eden.
“Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“Did you meet that guy after work yesterday?”
“Joel!”
“Mistress Amelia got in my face about it. If you did—”
“What did you tell her?”
“You dug him. I knew it!”
“What did you tell her, Joel? Tell me!”
“I didn’t tell her anything. But somebody told her. She’s spitting mad. She wants to talk to you.”
“Holy shit. What do I do?”
“Lie. Or you won’t fucking have a job.”
I slunk down the hall toward Mistress’s office. There was no point making her any more mad by avoiding her. But who would have ratted on me like that? Joel insisted it wasn’t him, and I believed him. He was a friend. It had to be somebody making stuff up. Unless someone had been outside my apartment last night and actually spied on me to see if he arrived, and who would have been petty and vindictive enough to do that?
The door was ajar, so I peeked in carefully. Crap. Mistress Amelia was flushed with anger. I entered silently and closed the door behind me and decided on Joel’s suggested plan of action. Lie.
“Joel said you wanted to talk to me—”
“If I were you, girl, I would address me as ‘Mistress’ and I would do it from my knees. Go out and come in again, and know this time that your job is on the line.”
Shit. I left and closed the door and took a few deep breaths to calm myself. Mistress and I had a complicated relationship. She hated me because she knew I wasn’t crazy about subbing for dommes—that is, female dominants. I just didn’t go for pussy the way I went for cock.
Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire Page 160