Touch Me Not

by Jen Katemi

  How is it possible that Alexei can evoke the same response?

  He looks down, studying our entwined fingers, and for a moment I can’t read his closed expression. Then he grunts and releases my hand. A brief grin twists his lips, and the already active butterflies in my stomach transform into giant crazy moths. “This probably won’t take long at all.”

  “You think?” Smug bastard. I’ll show you.

  My heart is thudding painfully as I step over the threshold and stride past him down the polished tile corridor toward the unknown.

  Chapter Three

  Alexei

  Sexy little minx. She’s wearing nothing but a pair of strappy black heels and that almost-not-there-at-all G-string, and the twin globes of her perfectly rounded ass jiggle for attention as she strides ahead of me down the hall way. She starts out strong and confident, but her stride falters quickly as she realizes some of the rooms to each side of the corridor are occupied, and more, that many of them are deliberately open for public viewing. This is where our voyeurs and exhibitionist members usually congregate. There are viewing windows in every room, with thick curtains that give our patrons a choice about whether their activities are on display or remain private. We have a mix usually, and tonight is no exception. Some of the viewing windows are curtained shut, but others have their drapery tied wide open to allow for spectators.

  Beneath each window is a long bar-type shelf, with adjustable height stools neatly stored underneath. We like to offer our voyeurs a decent level of comfort whilst they watch. Condoms, lube, tissues, in fact everything they might need for a viewing session, are neatly arranged on the shelf top.

  I don’t bother to hide my smirk when Mia stops and briefly peers in one of the windows before recoiling and raising a hand to cover her lips. She flicks a glance back toward me, and I see her nipples pucker and harden. She might be shocked, but there’s an element of arousal there that she can’t hide due to her nudity. Their responsiveness nudges my own erection back into being. She’s sexy as fuck, this pale little thing, and I’m not sure she even knows it. Then her eyes narrow as she catches my interest, and she tosses her hair back and fingers a condom before shrugging and dropping the foil packet back in the basket. Her seeming nonchalance is clearly a front. The flash of pink in her cheeks, and the way she’s once again hugging her middle, gives her away.

  I reach the window in question and glance in to see one of our female Dommes neatly wielding a spanking paddle. The man bent over the spanking bench is naked, and his ass cheeks are already bright red from her treatment. Thwack! She swings again and connects, and the gent shudders and clenches his hands reflexively. From the look of his parted lips and the way his eyes briefly roll back in his head at the paddle contact, it won’t be long ‘til he’s done. I nod at Mia, wordlessly moving her on. She continues walking, but slowly and with much less bravado and self-confidence than before.

  “Will we be in one of these rooms? Where people can…”

  “Do you want to be? Does it excite you to have people watch?”

  From her body language and level of discomfort, I already know what her answer will be. “No. Not at all. I—I much prefer private.”

  We’ve reached the end of the corridor, and I punch the button for the elevator. “Then no. We won’t be in any of the viewing rooms. I’ll take you to one of the private sections of the club.” The doors slide open soundlessly, and we step inside. Then the rest of the club is cut off as the doors close and we’re sealed into this private cocoon of quiet space. Just Mia, and me. I eye the security camera in the corner, staring directly at the lens as I shake my head, and the tiny red light winks out. Our security team know better than to record anything against my will. Besides, it would be impossible for Mia to have a weapon hidden on her mostly naked body, and even if she did, there’s no way she’d have enough strength to harm me. For the few seconds of this elevator ride, it will be just her and me. In this moment, and possibly for the first time ever, I realize how small this elevator really is.

  Mia’s chest heaves a little, as if she, too, feels the constraints of space and is struggling to breathe normally. My heart beats faster than usual, and I have a strange sensation in my stomach. It’s an uncomfortable pang that falls somewhere between nerves and excitement. I have no idea what Masha was thinking when she suggested Mia seek me out, and I have no real idea what this pale young woman needs from me, nor why it has to be me that does whatever it is she wants.

  Annoyance at Masha, and at this whole situation, spills over, and the urge to make Mia equally uncomfortable rises to the fore. “Is this space private enough for you?”

  “Oh.” She swallows, and I shift close until I’m almost, but not quite, touching her. Her chest heaving speeds up even more, and if she were big-busted she’d be poking me in the abs with those pointy nipples. “You mean, here? You’re going to do it … in here?” She, too, glances up briefly at the security camera in the corner, and when she worries at her lips with her teeth desire rockets through my veins. I want this woman.

  So. Fucking. Bad.

  The confined space is ratcheting up the pheromone levels to unbearable proportions. It must be that. There’s no other explanation for how close I am to the edge of control. So much for my momentary satisfaction at increasing her discomfort. It’s now my own ragged breathing that fills the silent space. I stare above her head at my face in the reflective wall. My eyes are extra green, and my mouth is twisted. I look slightly crazy. I focus on my breathing, bringing it back down slowly, and after several seconds my system responds and starts to calm.

  She’s a client. Nothing more. Nothing less. Take her downstairs and get on with it.

  “It?” I tilt my head to one side, part of me still feeling contrary. Still wanting to poke at her uncertainty. “What exactly do you mean by it, Mia? What is it you think I’m going to do to you?”

  “Well.” She bites her bottom lip. “I don’t exactly know.”

  “What would you like me to do? Tell me, what do you need? What is your punishment of choice? Spell it out, woman. Now.”

  “I don’t know!” Her sudden yell is accompanied by a brief slap on my chest. It’s so unexpected I fall back involuntarily. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know!” She keeps repeating the phrase, tears spilling up and over in a startling waterfall down her cheeks. Where did that come from? Her hands are clenched, her shoulders rigid. Tension of a non-sexual kind enters the elevator, and I have no idea what to say. Sex I can deal with. This? Clearly, I’ve goaded her too far.

  “It’s okay. It’ll be okay, Mia.” I croon meaningless platitudes until eventually she stops talking. I reach out to caress her hair, but she flinches away. I drop my hand and stand there with uncertainty coursing through me. How do I fix her issues? How the hell do I help someone I can’t even touch?

  “You don’t know it’ll be okay, Alexei.” This time her voice is a whisper, and the sound shivers over my skin as effectively as a set of sharp fingernails. “In twenty-five years it’s never been okay. I’m beginning to think it never will.”

  I open my mouth, but no response comes out. She’s right. Why am I saying it’ll all be okay when most likely it won’t? What the fuck am I going to do with you, little girl? I turn my attention to the panel of buttons on the wall. It’s easier than staring into those sad-as-hell baby blues. At first, I hesitate to push any button at all as I try to figure out how to proceed. Take her downstairs, to my superbly equipped personal playroom in the club dungeons below us? Or do I take her instead to my private penthouse suite upstairs, which is almost as well-equipped but almost exclusively out of bounds to clients? That’s Alexei rule number three.

  The fact that I’m even debating this at all fills me with confusion. “There’s no way I can take you downstairs.” It just feels wrong.

  It’s a shock when she suddenly reaches out and strokes one of her fingertips down my arm. The sensation causes goosebumps to erupt on my skin, and I have to fight
to control a shudder. How can a touch as light as Mia’s cause such an intense response? “I don’t care what you do with me. I’m still willing to give it a try,” she says, and in the quiet of the elevator I hear the faint tremble in her voice. “I’m not afraid. Well, I am, but I’m also excited.”

  I grunt, nonplussed.

  “Madame trusts you to be able to help me,” she adds. “And I trust Madame, so…” She shrugs, the movement lifting her small breasts, and my cock twitches. This time I imagine something completely new. I’m lying on my back in the middle of my bed, my erection pointing skyward, and her tiny body settles onto and around its thick, hard length, her moist pussy lips sucking in my eager flesh until I’m literally encased in her warmth and her innocence.

  Fuck! I cannot take this kid to the dungeons. I hit the button for my penthouse floor and lean back against the mirrored wall, wondering what the hell I’m about to let myself in for.

  ****

  Mia

  I’m not sure what happened in the elevator. He stood there for ages with his hand hovering over the buttons, and I could tell he was dealing with some kind of internal struggle. When he finally hit the P, presumably for penthouse, whatever tension was holding him rigid seemed to dissipate a little. Thank goodness. I’ve waited so long for this moment, ever since Madame first mentioned her son and his ability to create pleasure out of pain, and I can’t imagine what it would feel like if he actually turned me away. For three months, while I waited for my Plaisir application to be considered, I’ve fantasized about the mysterious Alexei Dubois and what it might be like to be seduced by a Master of Pain.

  Now that we’re here, about to head into his private rooms, I’m filled with an intoxicating mix of hope, terror, and unsated sexual need. Alexei is so much more than what I was expecting. Bigger, stronger-looking, and far more commanding in his presence and brooding sensuality than anything my imagination could conjure up. He wields his sexiness like a weapon, and what a powerful weapon it is. I’ve never met anyone who has such an effect on my body and my senses. Or my needy clit. In the tiny confines of the elevator car, the effect is intensified to the point of craziness. I suspect he could give me an orgasm just by looking at me, if he so chose. The thought of an orgasm while caught in the hypnotic stare of this man, turns my insides to mush and ramps up the ache in my sex to epic proportions.

  The upward momentum of the elevator ride leaves a pang in my stomach. He studies me in silence as the doors open, his lips pursed as if he regrets our appointment before it’s even begun.

  No. I won’t let you back out of this, Alexei. I need you.

  I lift my chin and quickly step out ahead of him into a room so vastly different from anything I’ve ever imagined that I stop short. I automatically expected a large open-plan space with banks of floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing stunning night views of the Yarra River and the city skyline beyond. Maybe thick carpet in which to curl your toes, white leather couches, plus expensive and very large television screens and other impressive technology. At the very least, perhaps a tiled entry area with doors leading off to other rooms where aforementioned views would be on display beyond luxurious fittings and expensive furniture. After all, this is the penthouse apartment of a city building. I suppose I assumed he’d have a typical billionaire’s hangout, or at least my idea of one, given Alexei and Madame are rumored to be in that financial bracket. Sex sells, and by all accounts they’ve sold a lot of it, over the years.

  This place looks like nothing of the kind. My imaginary fantasies would never in a million years have come up with this. I guess you’d have to call it an entrance room, of sorts, but this space is cavernous, the high ceilings and pale walls dimly lit by a series of wall sconce light fittings. Two of the walls are lined top to bottom with heavy fabric curtains in a deep red color. There are no visible windows, or views, in this room. The floor is bare board and highly polished. It still looks expensive, but somehow also empty and cold. I can’t ever imagine wanting to spend time in a place as sterile as this.

  Is this his home? How can someone live in a space so bare and emotionless? I have the strangest urge to wrap my arms around Alexei’s strong form and hold him tight. Impart some warmth, even love, into my embrace, and show him that’s there more to life than … this. I wish I could do it, just this once, without the threat of pain hanging over my head from the touch of his body against mine.

  There are only two items of furniture in the room. A heavy wooden sideboard sits off to the left against one of the walls, and there’s a lone chair in the center of the space. It faces the red drapery, and for a moment I wonder at the type of man who would sit here and stare at nothing. The chair is a low wingback style that matches the grandeur of the sconces and rich red fabric, and it certainly looks comfortable enough, but there are metal rings attached to the arms and legs that hint at something more than this being a simple chair.

  Ah. So, maybe he doesn’t just sit here and contemplate life.

  He glances up, and I follow his gaze, my eyes widening when I discover all the ropes, harnesses, and pulleys built in to the cross beams in the ceiling above our heads. Holy crap.

  This feels more like the sad and lonely haunt of a kinky vampire than a place where someone actually lives. A kinky vampire who’s into rope bondage, by the look of all that equipment tucked away neatly up there near the ceiling.

  My eyes must be huge. They certainly feel like big, round saucers as I stare around, and I blink a few times and try to rearrange my features back to somewhere near normal.

  “What is this place? Not … your home?” I clear my throat a bit to get rid of whatever’s causing the squeak. Rope bondage? What would a length of rope feel like, against my skin? Would it hurt as much as human touch? More?

  My head is saying run, but my sex is suddenly sending out another stronger message altogether.

  “Yes. I live here.” The words are clipped and contained. After a moment he adds, “Anytime you want out, sweetheart, just say the word.”

  It’s like he’s taunting me, expecting me to run. Hoping for it, almost.

  “I don’t want out.” I feign nonchalance and lift my shoulders in a brief shrug. “I just want you to get on with it.”

  One dark brow lifts, and his eyes spark with interest. “Really? There’s that elusive it again. Tell me, have you worked what it is that you want me to get on with?”

  “Um…” Silence swells between us, and my cheeks start to burn. Who am I kidding? I’m seriously out of my depth here, and we both know it.

  Sudden humor lights his gaze, and he seems to take pity on me. “Okay then, Mia. We shall get on with my version of … it. Remove your shoes, plus that tiny strip of fabric doing its best to hide your cunt, and step right in to my personal domain.”

  So, this is his private residence. Where does he sleep? How does he relax? And why did he bring me up here? My brain is focusing on inane thoughts and questions to try to keep the nerves under control. But I do as he says, slipping off first my heels, and then my G-string undies. My last line of defense in the modesty stakes. I leave them in a neat pile beside the elevator doors, feeling suddenly even more vulnerable than before. Not just because I’m now fully naked, funnily enough, but because without my shoes I’m so much shorter than he is. In my heels, his height and muscled build were impressive but not quite so daunting. Now he’s even more intimidating than ever.

  When I move further forward into the space, I see an archway off to one side that I didn’t realize was there. Through the gap I can see at least one other room, with what looks like proper furniture, so I guess this cavernous room is not where he spends all of his down time, but somehow the austerity of Alexei’s whole set-up still fills me with sadness. To have to walk through this cold and empty room, every single day or night, would put a dampener on anyone’s mood. I don’t understand why someone would create a space so devoid of, well anything, as the main entry point to their home.

  He still appears to be watc
hing me carefully, as if waiting for an adverse reaction. Does he really expect me to turn tail and run? I can’t. Alexei is my last resort, and there’s no way I’m going to give him what he expects, even if part of me wants to do exactly that.

  Instead, I face him fully and stop trying to hold in my sexual need. It’s mixed with trepidation, but I want this. Can’t he see that? Can’t he scent how eager I am to get started?

  There’s a subtle change in his expression. Oh yes, he can sense it, all right. “Five years, Alexei.” I wrap my arms around my middle. “It’s been five years.”

  After a moment a tiny grin appears, transforming his features from severe to stunning. My breath catches in my throat. He gestures to the lone chair. “I do like a challenge, little Mia. Take a seat.”

  I quickly do as he commands, settling in gingerly at first as I test out the rasp of the chair seat beneath my buttocks and thighs. The velvet softness is tolerable. Almost pleasant, in fact. The plush comfort surprises me, and I relax a little more, leaning back fully and toying with one of the metal rings on the armrest as I wait for Alexei to direct where this will go.

  One of his brows rises at my initial hesitation and his head tilts. “Are you so sensitive that even sitting on a normal chair causes pain?” He moves closer in what I can only describe as a predatory way, circling the chair, studying me with unreadable eyes and tapping one finger against his lips as he comes to a stop in front.