by Jen Katemi
“Sometimes. It depends if I’m having a good or bad day, but there are occasions when everything hurts.”
“Oh, Mia.” His gaze changes from unreadable to pitying.
My eyes narrow. “I don’t need your pity. I need your magic touch.”
“Magic? I’m not magic, Mia, despite what Madame may have said. I’m damaged goods. Far too gone in this dark world to be of use to someone as innocent as you. Definitely about as far from magic as you can get.”
I shake my head vigorously. “I don’t believe that. She knows you better than anyone, and she said your magic touch would help me. I know she didn’t mean real magic, of course, but she implied… She promised…” My voice trails off. What did Madame promise? I can’t seem to recall her exact words, but I know she hinted that her son had the skills I need to get me through to tomorrow. “She said you can use your skills to hopefully short-circuit my system. Reset my nerve endings back to how they should be.”
His jaw clenches tight for a moment, and then, for the first time, real humor appears in his eyes. “A system reboot?” After several seconds he lets out a light chuckle. “Madame has a damn lot to answer for.” A gentle sigh follows, and I know I’ve won this first battle. He reaches out and almost touches my cheek with one finger. Almost, but not quite. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up in response, and a strange pang deep in my belly signals danger. Excitement. Anticipation.
“All right then.” His tone is resigned. Slightly clipped, but I can tell he’s finally on board.
“Please.”
“Yes. Let’s do this.”
He unclips a palm-sized device from his belt and pushes a button, and some of the pulley ropes above my head descend until they are dangling just out of reach. Am I supposed to reach up and grab hold? What do I do? What the flipping heck do I do?
I have no idea what to expect. Alexei’s specialty is bondage. Rope bondage. I’ve had sex precisely twice in my life with the most vanilla guy I could find. Maybe Sara is right and I’m nuts to consider this as an option.
But I don’t feel like I have any choice. Not anymore. I’m so alone, so desperate for human touch that I’m willing to put up with whatever pain might come with that choice.
I know it will hurt, whatever we do. It always hurts. I can only hope that Alexei is as good as Madame says, and that somehow, with his guidance, I will find a way through the pain to some form of pleasure on the other side.
Chapter Four
Alexei
It’s ludicrous that I’m almost afraid to touch her. Me! My job is to deliver pain and pleasure in equal measure to those who sign up for the deal. I know exactly how far to push my clients who enjoy that knife’s edge dilemma. Pleasure. Pain. Which side of the dual coin will win out, each time we play? Instinctively I know each individual’s needs, and I know how to deliver it.
Mia is different. I’ve never met anyone like her. I don’t know what it is about her that evokes such a strange response, but there’s a part of me that feels almost protective. It’s an alien feeling, and it throws me off-balance. She’s not here for the same reason that most of my clients seek me out. She doesn’t covet the release that pain will bring. She’s here because pain is the only thing she knows. For her, physical touch—human interaction at its most basic level—is nothing but agony.
Perversely, given my profession, I don’t want to cause her pain. And yet I know every touch, every stroke, every whisper of rope against her sensitive skin, is going to deliver just that. When it comes to Mia, nothing is instinctive. I’m going in without a clue of what will happen next.
I adjust the pulley above her head, smoothing the length of rope in my hand and considering its texture. Downstairs in the club’s dungeon I use natural jute and organic rope, which gives a slightly scratchy effect for the sub. It heightens the overall effect, but with Mia, I think we should start with a synthetic. Perhaps a smooth polypropylene cord? But even so, will it be soft enough for a complete beginner? Especially someone whose skin is so sensitive she can barely stand the stroke of my fingertips down her arm? For that matter, will suspension be the right decision at all for a first-timer, whether over-sensitive or not?
In the end I decide against suspension, at least for now. I’ll start with a few simple loops and knots and see how she tolerates that before we try anything more advanced. I walk over to the bank of cupboards in my sideboard and open one of the drawers that houses my synthetic rope stock. A long peacock feather catches my eye, and an idea sparks. Start with the feather, progress to rope, and then if she tolerates that, I’ll consider a simplified version of suspension. I grab the feather, and as I do so, a slightly-larger-than-marble-sized ball rolls out from underneath it. A single silver Ben Wa ball, with a long string attached. I don’t know what prompts me to reach out toward it. Perhaps the flash of silver as one of the light sconces catches the curved edge for a moment? Who knows? Whatever it is, something that feels almost beyond human compels me to snag the gleaming orgasm ball and pocket it for possible later use.
Then it’s back to business. I pull out a length of synthetic rope, already envisioning how attractive the cords will look looped against Mia’s fair skin. I tuck the neat coils into the hook on my belt and turn back to face her. And my heart instantly kerpows in an almighty thump at the look of terror contorting her features.
I’m there in a flash, kneeling in front of her seated form. She’s clenching the metal rings on each chair arm, her fingers working reflexively. “I trust you, Alexei, I do. I’m just, I don’t know, scared.” Her voice is high-pitched. She’s more than scared. She’s terrified.
I was right to forgo the suspension. There’s no way she’d be able to handle it. Not today, and possibly not ever. “It will all be fine, Mia, I promise. I will push you beyond comfort today; we both know that already.” I want to comfort her, but I’m not sure how. “I won’t push you beyond what you’re able to tolerate. You say you trust me. Well then, do so. Allow yourself to relax and enjoy the experience. Or this won’t work at all.”
She lets out a nervous-sounding giggle. “I know. I’m trying.”
Her words, spoken so simply, touch my heart in a way that confuses. I frown briefly. I’m not used to feeling unsure about anything, and since Mia walked into my club earlier tonight, I haven’t felt anything but unsure.
“Let’s start.” My voice is gruff, and I clear my throat, before climbing back to my feet. I don’t kneel for anyone. Usually. “Close your eyes.”
She complies, and slowly, I move behind her. She really is tiny, and yet exquisitely proportioned. And that skin. So pale and smooth. So incredibly delicate. The chair is wingback because I like that style, but for the first time I’m truly grateful I chose the low-back variety. It allows me to see more of her upper back. Those shoulder-blades jut, their sharp edges crying out for my touch.
I send up a silent prayer for guidance. Or perhaps it goes down. Who knows? To whoever happens to be listening, guide me.
I lift the feather and trace the uneven part in her hair, then follow the pale waves down until I reach her left shoulder blade. She shivers when the feather fronds meet her skin and lets out a ragged sigh. “So gentle. I’m getting goosebumps.”
“I can see them as they rise up on your skin.” I concentrate on her body, which is quivering now beneath my gentle feather trace. I shift from one shoulder blade to the other, and when she silently leans forward to give me better access, I dip down with the soft edge of the fronds into the hollow near the base of her back. She shudders hard when I swish the top of her butt crack, and I quickly draw back. “All right?”
“Oh yes. It’s … tolerable.”
“Hmm. Not exactly the positive response I was aiming for.”
She lets out a giggle. “Sorry. But believe me, that’s a good response.”
“A challenge then. We need more than tolerable. So much more.”
I step around the chair until we’re face to face, and I realize she still has h
er eyes closed tight. What a good little girl she is, obeying my instructions so meticulously. We’re making progress. Her fists are no longer clenched on the seat arms, but instead are now resting loosely in her lap. A lick of heat to my groin reignites my desire, which has lain somewhat dormant since we entered the penthouse.
“Open your eyes, Mia. I want to see your expression when I touch your pointy little breasts.”
“Oh!” Her lids pop open, and I don’t know how it’s possible, but the blue of her eyes has intensified. Her pupils are wide and dark, the color around a bright ring of sapphire, and my dick responds yet again to their allure. “Pointy doesn’t sound very … sexy.” Her voice is hoarse, and the lick of heat becomes a full-blown ache between my legs. She wants this. Badly. Maybe as much as I do.
“Your breasts are incredibly sexy. My fingers, and my mouth, are aching to attack those erotic points and make you moan in delight as I flick and squeeze and suck at your delicate flesh.”
She emits a tiny moan at my words, and the sound is an unexpected delight. I flick the feather across the tip of first one of her breasts and then quickly catch the other. She gasps and bites at her bottom lip. I repeat my action, and this time she lets out another sensual moan. “It’s very sensitized, and yet it also feels so good.”
“Good is better than tolerable.”
“Oh yes. Much, much better.”
Her nipples are pebbled, lending truth to her words, and the urge to reach down and draw one of them into my mouth becomes almost overwhelming. But I don’t. Instead I lean down to reach between her legs with the delicate fronds of feather. “Open wide for me, Mia. Oh, good girl. Now lean back and provide a better view.”
“Like this?” She shifts her butt forward a little in the seat, and now, with her legs spread wide, I have an unfettered view of her sex. She’s not a virgin, I can tell immediately even without her having admitted it earlier, but she’s holding her cunt so tightly squeezed together I can also tell she wasn’t lying about being inexperienced in the sexual arena. This won’t do. I need her wide and willing and wet.
I unclip the cuffs mounted on the chair arms with my free hand. “Put up your legs. That’s right, into the stirrups you go, little one.”
She’d be a wonderful sub, if I had the time—or the inclination—to teach her some of the finer details of a Dom/sub relationship. She does exactly as I tell her, hooking her legs up and over each of the armrests with her feet dangling awkwardly off the ends. Fuck me. Even her feet are sexy. And feet are not my thing.
I clip the cuffs back in place, capturing her ankles in a loose restraint that doesn’t put pressure on her skin. Her cunt is now open wide for my personal viewing pleasure. Her mostly-hair-free mound rises in a gentle swell above pink pussy lips that are as plump and sweet-looking as I imagined. The glistening slit is testament to her readiness, as is the slightly swollen clit that pokes out near the top of her seam like a perfect pink pea.
Fuck. I’m only human, and that view is too delicious to resist. I lean in and take a swipe with my tongue, swirling around her clit and down the already moist seam to her channel entrance. She gasps and jerks beneath me. Her taste is exquisite, sweet and musky. I want more. So much more than one quick taste. I lean in again, but she bats me away with one of her hands.
“Too much!” Her hips are still jerking, as if my mouth remained on her cunt. I raise a finger and run it briefly across my mouth, feeling the slick wetness coating my lips. Her slick wetness.
You will not bat me away again.
“Your wrists.” I grab one of the pulleys dangling above her head and draw down until one of the metal hooks is positioned just right. I take the rope from my belt and without me having to ask again she holds out her hands in a supplicant pose in front of her. Oh yes. The perfect little sub. I loop the rope over and around both her wrists in a simple boola boola knot. I intend to restrain, but without too much pressure against her skin. She hisses a little at the slide of rope but nods okay when I raise a querying brow. I continue, trying to be gentle even though it doesn’t come naturally. When I finish knotting, I lift the bound wrists and hook part of the rope onto the pulley, raising it slightly until her arms are stretched above her head and her butt is only just scraping the seat of the chair. Suspended, and yet, not.
“How … I don’t know how … to process this.” She speaks through gritted teeth.
“It hurts?”
“Yes.” Her head droops slightly.
“Do you want to stop? You just have to say so.”
“No.” She pants a couple of times, and then lifts her head to look directly into my eyes. “Don’t stop, please. I want this.”
I nod slowly. “That pleases me, Mia. Focus on the rope. And the cuffs. Wrists and ankles. Focus all your attention on those spots only. The rest … just let it go. The brain is a powerful tool, little one. Whatever I do to you, from this point on, just push the pain into your wrist and ankle restraints, and don’t worry about the rest.”
She’s so fucking sexy, in that legs spread position. With her arms raised up and her legs secured in the cuffs, she’s helpless and hurting, and angry, and completely turned on. I see it all, and more in her expressive features. It’s as if a switch has been flipped and she’s no longer afraid to let me in. Hell, I can smell it on her. The need. The desire. It almost matches mine.
“Okay?”
Her mouth twists briefly, and this time she doesn’t answer.
I shrug. “I don’t know how to do subtle.” It’s not much of an apology, but I don’t know what else to say.
“You’re doing…” She sucks in a breath. “Fine.” Her shudder is sudden and violent, the accompanying groan shocking me with its guttural intensity. One simple rope knot around her wrists can do this? What would the thick length of my cock embedded in her cunt do instead?
“Are you—”
“Shut up, Alexei.” She slants me a look that could be based on pleasure or pain. I can’t tell which. She twists briefly, adjusting her position in the chair. My attention is immediately drawn back to that exposed view between her legs, and the urge to lean in and taste that cute little cunt intensifies. Instead, I retrieve the feather and flick its end across the pink nub of her clit, circling and tickling her flesh, before tracing down the line of her slit and back up again. The seam shines with slick wetness, and my cock is so hard I’m going to have to remove my trousers in a minute. I suppress a groan.
Then she lets out another of those guttural sounds. “Do that again, Alexei. It feels so good…”
I comply, running the feather up and down and all over her wet pussy lips. The frond ends are now damp with her juices, and for a second or two I raise it to my lips. Sweet and fresh. It’s so frustrating to do this vicariously. To touch her only via a peacock feather. To smell her delicious scent, and taste her cunt, via the fronds. This situation is like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and I thought I’d experienced everything.
My cock is so hard it hurts. I reach down to adjust my leather pants. My questing fingers encounter the Ben Wa ball deep in one of my pockets and I pull it out and hold it in my palm, considering. Would this be one step too far?
Another moan from Mia, this one so light it’s almost a gasp, and I can’t help myself. She’s already so wet. The thought of her pussy sucking in that perfect silver sphere brings me literally to my knees in front of her.
Mia’s back arches, and her small breasts with those sharply delineated nipples are pointing skyward. In this moment she’s everything I desire, and nothing like any client I’ve ever serviced. The mere fact that I want her so badly puts her in a different category from all the rest. I don’t have sexual intercourse with the club patrons. My arrangement with my clients is strictly delivery of pain. My cock is my own. It has been ever since I came to live with Masha, and outside of work my indulgence in sexual activity is limited.
That’s partly why my physical reaction to Mia is so confronting. Why is she different? What is it abo
ut her that has every thought in my head and every cell in my body focusing on one thing and one thing only? I want to know what it would feel like to fuck a woman like Mia. No, not a woman like Mia. I want to know what it would feel like to fuck my little Mia.
Experimentally, I take the silver ball and seat its curved edge at the entrance to her channel. She shifts in obvious shock, not because the ball is cold—the heat of my palm has warmed it up at least to body temperature—but likely because she’s never felt such a thing before. Her sex is so wet there’s no shortage of lubricant. I coat the ball liberally with her own body juices, and then working as gently as I can, slip the ball inside her channel and push it up as far as I can reach.
“Oh, my … God!” Her voice rasps out unevenly, and my heartbeat speeds up in response.
“Okay, little Mia?” Fuck. Me. My own voice is equally raspy. What is it about this girl’s innocence that ramps up my own desire to heights I’m not used to? Why does she have this effect on me?
“No. Yes. I … think so.” Her breath is shallow, and her hands clutch reflexively above our heads, contained safely in her rope restraint. “I don’t know. Alexei, what is that thing you just did?”
I remove my finger from her channel and stroke briefly across her clit, enjoying the flash of heat beneath my fingertip. She appears so focused on what’s still inside her that she’s not registering any pain from my touch. I do it again, this time with my thumb tip, circling her swollen clit a couple of times until her pelvis begins to shudder beneath my questing touch.
“Yes, oh yes, please.” She starts thrusting her mound almost involuntarily into my cupped hand, for the first time reaching into my touch rather than away from it. The movement back and forth must cause the small weight inside the Ben Wa to start shifting deep within her body. I can pinpoint the exact moment she registers the inner vibration by the way her eyes flare and her mouth parts in shock.
“Oh! It feels … weird. Like I can’t hold it … in—”