by Jamie Knight
She pauses, gesturing to an area where people are strapped to walls, and there are tables full of gadgets waiting to be used on them.
“You could even be someone’s prisoner, if that kind of thing suits you. Either way, you will be required to serve and submit to the members already present, until you become members, or you show yourselves to be competent in more dominant roles.”
Nearly all of the other girls express some level of interest and willingness about all of this. But my little shy one, she looks even more lost and panicked by the prospect. She murmurs something about “being new to all this, and not knowing anything about any of this” before excusing herself.
She does so politely, getting up from her seat and heading somewhere. Until she remembers that she doesn’t know her way around, and has to ask Lady White for directions. She’s squirming adorably.
“Um, I’m sorry, Lady White, but where is the bathroom?”
“Back that way and to the left, doll,” she says, and quickly turns her attention back to the rest of the girls.
And I turn my attention back to my shy little darling. I know how it might look to some, even in this club, but I want to see what else she has to say when no one else is around. I want to have a moment with her, all to myself.
So, I track her to the women’s bathroom. Stealthily, of course.
As I do, I hear my shy one murmur helplessly, “Why oh why did I end up here? I’ve never even kissed anybody before!”
She hurries to the bathroom, but I’m not sure whether she’s going there because she needs to use it, or just cry. “I’ve never dated anybody, and I’m in a place like this!” With that, she darts into the restroom, and I follow in after her.
The moment I’m in the bathroom, and I know the door has closed without anyone seeing me shadow her, I grab her by the wrist and push her into the wall. I move her so her back is spread sexily against the cool tile, as I spread her arms up above her head and kiss her.
Fear and confusion. That’s what I see a light on her beautiful, delicately carved face when I first grab a hold of her. That fear and confusion deepens as I press her to the wall, but as I lean in to kiss her, press my lips on hers, the fear and confusion fade slightly, revealing desire. Lust for me and this situation, despite feeling and seeing every part of her body quaking and fighting with instincts. The instinct to run, to protect herself from me.
In the beginning, my shy one fights me— the feeling of my lips on her— but that only makes this situation more intriguing, more satisfactory to me. The fact that she’s fighting, when I saw the smallest spark of lust, that urges me forward. Encourages me to keep kissing her, grabbing her soft lips with mine.
The softness of those lips, the way they tremble ever so slightly in between the pockets of warmth and saliva, that makes me hard. In seconds, I’m beyond just a little aroused. I’m thick and heavy, and pressing into her stomach a little.
As the pressure in my kiss deepens, and I feel her feeling my closeness, she relaxes. Relents under my hold and attention, as if she’s not only realized it’s pointless to fight against me, but more importantly, that there’s no reason to.
She knows that, somehow, despite the situation, I’m safe. I’m noble, despite stealing her first kiss from her like a common thief. And that idea — that I’ve taken something so precious from her as a first kiss — that makes me want to have her more. Take more kisses, and more precious things. Like her virginity, which I know is also there, struggling and relenting against me.
But for now, I take my lips from her. I want to watch her come to terms with what I’ve just done. I want to hear her as she catches her breath. I want to savor those first draws of air, the way her face changes. The way the excitement might play across her features.
With my lips off of her, it takes my shy one a moment to respond. To catch her breath, and to wrap her head around what has just happened. Who I am, and why I have just taken her that way.
When she does speak, she stammers out exactly what I would expect a woman of her limited life experience to.
“Who are you?”
“That is for you to find out in a moment,” I say gently, “but for now, let me tell you who you are, Miss. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, a woman who is grateful and happy that it is me stealing her first kiss, even though she doesn’t know it yet.”
I’ve leaned in close to her again, unable to get enough of her sweet, bubbly scent.
In that moment, though, my shy one surprises me. Just as I’m contemplating whether I’m going to kiss her again so soon after releasing her, she leans forward and kisses me.
It’s lightning fast. It’s unsure and a little clumsy, but in it I sense the desire and fire I saw on her face. It smolders on her lips like smeared wax. She quickly retreats, trying to squish herself against the wall and away from me.
“I’m sorry. That was out of line. And anyway, I’m not beau—”
I don’t want her to say that word, so I silence it with a kiss. With a firmer, more commanding one, being sure to push my rock-hard cock into her belly. For emphasis, and also as my impromptu stamp of approval.
“You are beautiful,” I say, pulling my lips off her, but leaving my cock where it is against her belly. Like a sexy, no-nonsense pistol. “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be having this effect on me.”
As I speak, I bring one of her hands gently down off the wall, and toward the dark front of my slacks.
“A very rare thing indeed,” I add, pressing her timid fingers in and around my bulge. “Which is why I will make you mine.”
I sigh into these words, feeling my shy one timidly touch me, and then begin to squeeze my length.
Good girl, I think and lean in.
Chapter 5
Melissa
At first, I don’t know what to do.
One second, I’m retreating into the bathroom to relieve myself of both nerves and the feeling that I should’ve never let my longtime friends plan a twenty-first birthday celebration for me.
The next, I’m grabbed and pinned against a wall there. And by a strange, handsome, older man. A man I’ve never seen before, but realize as he leans in to kiss me, that I might enjoy seeing every day for the rest of my life.
He has the most dazzling blue eyes and dark hair I’ve ever seen. A square, rugged jaw, and soft but commanding lips. Lips I quickly find myself prisoner to, no matter the instincts that have started to kick up and around me.
Though a part of me is fascinated and drawn in by him, his faint taste of scotch and sugary sharp cologne. Another more ancient, biological part is afraid. Unconsciously, uncontrollably I fight him as he kisses me. I struggle and squirm a little, feeling his lips on mine. In my head, I’m not sure what’s going on, or what’s about to happen.
Briefly, I see myself being ravaged by him. Undressed and forcibly taken, and some part of me fears this. But another part, a secret and hidden side, enjoys the idea. It hungers for being taken that strongly and commandingly.
I’d never had a boyfriend before. And all the other men who had shown interest in me, they were far too gentlemanly and reserved to do something like this. To take what they wanted from me, and put me in a position like this.
The weight of the mysterious man’s lips increases. They grow warm and more urgent, and again my body subconsciously fights him. It struggles against this situation, even as my brain and heart race from it. Even as I feel my panties growing wet and hot, I feel my body wiggle and shake under his mouth.
He lets me up for air, but only after I relax into him. Only after my body submits to him, and my midriff feels the slightest light of his firm, silky slacks against it, does he let me breathe and ask the one question burning across my mind.
I ask him who he is, but my mysterious man doesn’t answer. Instead, he tells me who I am. He says that I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and I draw away from him.
Me being beautiful is not something I’m ready to accept. Being raised in a househol
d like I was, one’s own beauty wasn’t considered attention worthy. And worst of all, it was considered egotistical and impolite to focus too much attention on such physical, skin deep things.
So, I do as I was raised to: I deny what he’s told me, but only after doing something my upbringing would also frown upon. Reaching up and kissing him!
Of course, immediately afterwards, I apologize for my forward, unwanted attention. Never mind that this man has done that and more to me. As an older gentleman, he has a position of power over me. Authority. Rank, as my father would say.
But not me. I’m not in the position that he is, so I apologize and move further into the wall.
He kisses me before I can say I’m not beautiful, and proceeds to move one of my hands down off the wall and toward the front of him. He moves me toward his hard, demanding member, and as he forces my fingers near and around him, I find myself enjoying being told what to do. Controlled wordlessly into touching him places I would never have given myself permission to go otherwise.
In a matter of blissful, uninhibited moments, I’ve gone from lightly, hesitantly stroking him to actually gripping his member through his slacks. Soon I’m squeezing and stroking his large, heavy cock through the fabric, feeling excited and terrified by the size.
I lick my lips. It’s as much from the nervous, dry quality to my mouth, as it is from a blooming hunger in my belly. The same belly he was poking with his huge cock a moment ago.
I continue stroking it, imagining what it would look like laid bare. I imagine its length and girth, wondering what it would feel like to have it in my mouth. I shiver, imagining that it’s now found its way lower. Into my pussy.
My stomach flips. Along my fingers, I feel his cock fattening even more.
Could I even fit it all inside? Or would it bust me open?
While the thought is frightening, curiosity gets the better of me. I wouldn’t mind finding out for myself. Even being a virgin, even knowing that it might hurt even more, I’m still intrigued by the idea.
I’m also intrigued by his nearness, the weight of his body on mine. He’s leaned in closer to me, thanks to my undivided attention.
“I don’t even know you,” I whisper at him as I continue my work obediently.
I will make you mine.
That proclamation of his lances across my brain and heart. As it does, I feel a small but fierce jolt of electricity. Like something coming open or awake.
Why and how can he feel about me that way? And when we just met? I’m not really that beautiful or…
As if he’s once again sensed the turn of my thoughts, my mystery man answers me.
“I’m Jake,” he murmurs, leaning into me as I continue to stroke and fondle him. “But you can call me Sir.”
I’m already feeling my wetness. I had been moments before this, but as his deep and commanding voice floods over my ears, and he tells me to address him that way, I’m soaked. I’m also without any reason or desire to object.
“What’s your name? I’d like to know what to call the woman I’m going to make mine.” He leans in closer, presses his lips—and his stiff cock—against me. “Especially since it’s her twenty-first birthday.”
I suck in a breath, looking at him.
“How did you know that?”
He just smiles like everything about him is made of satin.
“A little birdie told me,” he answers, moving more of himself into my hand.
I know that’s his way of saying back to work. I didn’t say you could stop.
So, I resume my caressing of him, realizing I’ve moved to include his thick and heavy balls as objects of my affection.
“I’m…” I blush, realizing fully that I’m touching a stranger’s cock. That I have been for the last several minutes unabashedly, without ever questioning or objecting to it. I blush deeper, and focus on his big, deep and bright blue eyes. “My name is Melissa.”
“Melissa.” My name rumbles out of his throat and over his lips like a dark, thick alcohol. Something much more exotic and headier than I ever thought my name could be. “Well, Melissa. Since it’s your birthday, would you like me to give you a present?”
I swallow thickly, fidgeting. With my hand still cupped around his length, I’m surprised by my answer.
“Yes, sir,” I say.
I say it quietly, feeling my cheeks flame with heat, and my neck prickle.
He brings my chin in his hand, brings my eyes more firmly up to his.
“Good. Although I will have to come up with an appropriate present for you. It’ll be exactly what you need, but only after I’ve seen what kind of a good girl you can be for me.”
There’s a pause, as he takes the other arm down from the wall, but keeps my wrist clasped in his fingers.
“You’re coming home with me, Melissa. You know what your answer needs to be to get that present I want to give you, don’t you?”
Present or no, I know exactly how I would— and should— respond.
“Yes,” I say.
Already, I can feel myself grinning. From joy and excitement, not fear.
“Yes, what?” he asks.
“Yes, Sir,” I say, bringing my eyes down, and my face to the side. “Yes, I will come home with you.”
I feel him smile. At the same time, I feel myself being drawn away from the wall like a princess in a pair of gilded handcuffs. My wrist firmly in hand, Jake leads me out of the bathroom and through the body of the club. The entire way, I’m feeling deliciously free and trapped at the same time.
Like I’ve been captured by him, but not to go to prison or to a dungeon. But to his treasury, where he keeps all of his most precious things.
I don’t see any of my friends at the table we were originally seated at. But, as we make our way out of the club, I see them all around. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see them indulging themselves in club activity, but I am.
Some of my friends are seated at various tables, kissing people. Others are dancing. And Brittany, I spot her getting spread against the wall like I was, except she’s being chained into an actual pair of handcuffs.
Every one of my friends seems to be enjoying themselves, so I don’t worry over it. I don’t question it.
I do, however let them see me happily leaving with Jake. I smile and gesture for them to have fun, just before we escape out the front pair of doors, and out into the night.
There, my long and sleek ride awaits, ready to usher me into more of this unexpected fairytale.
Chapter 6
Jake
Outside of Club Lush, my limo awaits us. The presence of its black, sleek form next to the sidewalk isn’t new. But what is, is the look I see on my shy one’s face.
It’s excitement. It’s surprise and lust. I can tell she’s admiring her surroundings, physically and financially, as if my wealth on display is as big and full as the cock I made her feel up in the bathroom.
I straighten my shoulders, leading her to the large open door. The driver comes around to open the door for us and gives my lady and me a greeting. Melissa leans closer to me, not responding to him.
Interesting. She won’t speak to him just because she was spoken to.
As I lead her gently into the large, sprawling back seat, I wonder about that. I lightly stroke my cock, wondering how far I can push her – how good she really is, and whether it’s her shyness that makes her avoid speaking to my driver, or something else.
Obedience.
As the driver prepares to close the limo door on us, I say to him, “Take us to my penthouse, Jericho.”
The driver nods, and as he walks around the vehicle to take his place behind the wheel, I close the partition between the belly of the limo and the driver’s cab. Privacy is the name of my game, though I know Jericho would give it to me without a single objection.
I could’ve asked him to close the partition himself, but I want Melissa to see how much control I have. I want her to see and appreciate how every little deta
il around me falls under my control, my command.
Just like she will see up close and personal, in a moment.
As the limo begins to pull away from the curb and move down the quiet, dark streets around Club Lush, I watch Melissa drinking in her surroundings a moment. I savor her looking like a little white rabbit in her party dress, having fallen down the wrong rabbit hole.
Then, when I’ve had my fill of her in this way, I reach over to a minibar nearby and grab two champagne glasses. Frosted and ready for serving alcohol, they are as cold as the champagne bottle I pull out next.
Deftly, I uncork it and splash the contents into the champagne glasses and offer her one.
“Ever had champagne, Melissa?”
I know she hasn’t. She is just turned twenty-one, and if she’s the good girl I’ve already pegged her to be, she hasn’t touched a single drop.
But I want her to admit what I’ve already figured out about her.
To prove to me what a good girl she is, since I did promise her a present.
Melissa looks down and folds her hands nervously in her lap.
“No,” she whispers almost too quietly for me to hear, “I haven’t.”
She brings her gloriously innocent eyes up toward me. She chews on her lip, blushing.
“I know other girls my age have already been experimenting for years by now, but I was raised strictly. My dad was military, so drinking under the age was out of the question.”
She looks directly at me, as if already guilty of some trespass.
“Not that I was ever curious about that,” she continues. “I did what I was told. Happily. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be succeeding the way I have. Going to school and everything.”
I smile at her, offering her the champagne again.
“Well, you’re twenty-one as of tonight,” I say. “So, you’re going to have the glass of champagne I’m offering you.”
Melissa doesn’t need me to explain further.
She nods and then quickly takes the proffered glass.
“Thank you, Sir,” she murmurs, and brings the rim of it to her mouth.