The date he had with him was also gorgeous, of course—some Asian supermodel, I imagined—looking to make a name for herself in America. She must have noticed the way I looked longingly at her date at the time, because she gave me the dirtiest, most hateful of look. As if to say: 'Back off, bitch! He's mine!' before stalking after him, with her riding crop in her hand. As if I was any threat to her anyway. She was a sexy model wearing a leather corset. I looked like I was down to my last set of unsoiled linens on laundry day.
As the night dragged on, I saw him from time to time, socializing with some of the other leather-clad men and women. They were taking turns tying up and teasing some blindfolded, gagged redheaded girl. I remember wondering how it would feel to be her, and have all those men, especially that gorgeous muscular man in the black T-shirt, manhandle me, tease me, and abuse me like that.
I remember trying to sneak in a few touches to my unmentionables—sneaking my fingers beneath my panties, while no one was looking—because really, everything he was doing to that redheaded girl was making me so hot. So horny. Even the Asian woman he'd walked in with was turning me on in her own way, albeit a frightening one. I got the sense that she genuinely hated the poor redheaded girl. She started whipping her on the ass and tits quite hard. It ended up starting an argument with the hot stud she'd arrived with. He grabbed her crop, told her off, and untied the redheaded girl, who then left, crying.
After a time, the Asian woman came back to my booth and demanded her coat. I struggled to find it. She'd lost the number of course, and so I didn't know how to locate her coat. I had to ask the terrifying woman for a description, and she kept calling me incompetent and threatening me with her riding crop. In a way, I was kind of thrilled by the idea that she might try that. I'd never experienced such viscous behavior before. But then—and I won't get into explicit details—but she said something quite mean to me. She implied that I was nothing, and would never attract the kinds of men that she could.
The worst part was, I believed her.
But then, that's when he joined us at the coat check desk.
"Is there a problem?" he asked.
"This useless blonde bimbo can't find my coat."
He looked at me flatly, without any apparent harshness or judgment. I returned a sheepish, apologetic look. Then he looked at his Asian companion.
"Here," he said, handing me his number. It should be the red coat right next to mine."
I went to get it.
"Yes, that's it. Right there."
"But I can't just give it back without the number," I said.
I felt stupid for saying so. It was kind of lame. Why would she lie about her stupid coat? But still, I was really cross with this woman for some reason. I'd done nothing to her, and she was treating me like an inferior!
Not only that, but…okay, listen. Back then, my self-esteem was abysmal even on the best of days. And here was this pretty rich bitch—with money and a gorgeous boyfriend/husband—really, everything a girl could ever want, and she'd just torn me a new asshole. She'd just torn me down to nothing. And—well…to be honest—if I'm to be completely honest—I imagine I was jealous. Jealous that she got to ride around with the likes of Gary Bennett, probably drinking champagne in a heated limo, while I had to walk home alone in the cold winter air, to my small apartment. To sleep alone. Though it was probably for the best, since watching this hot stud dominate that redhead tonight had given me plenty to think about while alone in bed with my vibrator later that night.
"Don't worry about that," he said. "I'll take full responsibility. Here, take my card. Just in case there's a problem later. I'll come running."
He gave me his business card. It was then—seeing his name spelled out—that's when I first realized who he was: one of the most powerful, eligible bachelors in Manhattan.
Then he left with his Asian companion. I expected he would be leaving my life for good. But then, they argued for a few more minutes at the door. She left alone, and he came back in.
"I'm sorry if you think this forward of me, but…what's your name?"
It took me a few moments to let it sink in that this handsome man was talking to me.
"Kayla," I said.
"It's nice to meet you, Kayla."
"It's nice to meet you too, um…" and then I faltered. He'd just handed me his card, and I'd already blanked on his name. Even though I knew exactly who he was!
"Gary," he said. "Gary Bennett."
Ugh…Kayla, you…dummy!
"Yes, sorry," I said. "It said that on your card."
"Tell me, Kayla. What's a girl as pretty as you doing stuck working coat check alone for this club? There's nearly five hundred people here tonight."
I blushed. I wouldn't have thought a gorgeous guy like Gary Bennett would think I was pretty. I didn't even know what to say to that. But maybe he was just being polite. Or so I thought…
"Normally there are two of us," I said. "But the other girl got sick at the last minute."
"Must be hell. It's going to be really rough when the others start leaving, and you're scrambling to hand back 500 coats."
"Oh god, don't remind me," I said. "I'm trying not to think about that."
"Want some help?" he said.
"Seriously?" I asked, more out of disbelief than out of any objection I might have. Because really, I felt elated at the prospect of having a helper for the rest of the night. It wasn't just because I really needed the help—although I'd been dreading this part—but because he was really hot! I really did want the chance to talk with him a little more.
Maybe, I mused, I should ask him about what a girl needs to do to get invited to these sorts of parties!
"I'm always serious," he said with a wry smile. "Except when I'm not. But you look like you could use the help. And how could I ignore a woman in need? Especially when she's as pretty as you."
I imagine I must have turned beat red. I had to look away. The flattery was so shameless and yet…so genuine. And what girl doesn't want to hear about how pretty she is from such a hot guy?
"I don't know if the owners will like you back here," I said.
Oh shut-up, Kayla! I wanted to scream at myself. You damn…goody-two-shoes!
"Pff…I own one third of this club. I am one of the owners."
I gave him a look of incredulity. Then I looked at the card. It listed the club at the bottom.
"Oh my god," I said. "You are!"
"And I'm not going to very well throw myself out," he said. "Not unless I misbehave!"
He smiled at me with a dangerous look. It was predatory, yet playful.
Oh my god I want him so badly, my mind screamed.
"Well," I said. "Then I don't think I can turn you down."
I, of course, meant that in a number of ways, though for the time being, I was glad for the help.
That's how Gary and I began our first date. If you can call it that. Neither of us did at the time, but when we look back on it now, that's what it was. It was the beginning of a very promising relationship. One based on mutual respect, attraction, and his coming to my rescue.
Or so I thought!
What a naïve woman I was back then. A naïve, presumptuous woman who needed to be taught a lesson.
As the night progressed, and we had time for a little more back and forth banter, the people began to come back to the coat check area in larger waves. Gary was right there with me, rushing to find all the right coats as quickly as possible.
At one point, I had been taking too long with a number, and that's when he smacked me on the ass with his hand. Hard!
"Ow," I said, looking back at him in a combination of shock and…another feeling I couldn't yet identify. I think it may have been excitement. Or perhaps just plain arousal.
"Hurry up," he snapped in a commanding voice. "You should be faster than this. Get the man his coat."
"Yes sir," I said sarcastically, and went to look for the number.
Then he followed me, just inside
one of the aisles, a little beyond where we could be seen. Then he pressed me against the far wall.
"If I wanted you calling me ‘sir’," he said, "you'd be wearing a collar. And considerably less clothing. And probably an armbinder or handcuffs. You should know better than to tease me like that."
I didn't know what to say. It was just so unexpected. So…hot! I felt like I could barely breathe.
"I'm sorry," I said. "You just seem like a sir to me."
"I do, do I?" he said, pressing me against the wall with one bulky, strong, well-toned arm.
"Yes," I said. "The way you took command of that redheaded woman earlier."
"Who, Yvette?"
"I don't know her name," I said, still breathing heavily.
"Don't call me ‘sir’ again," he said. "It's okay for other people. But when you say it…I don't know, Kayla. There's something about the way you say it. Makes me want to strip you, tie you up and…"
He stopped himself short and took a breath and tried to straighten his collar, then realizing that he was in a T-shirt, but was probably used to suits.
"…do things to you," he finished.
"Is that so…?" I said, with a naughty smile. "…Sir."
He roughly put a hand up to my throat and let me feel a little bit of his strength, and he smiled, but not like before. Before, he had smiled the way a friendly neighbor smiles at another neighbor. Now, he was smiling at me darkly, the way a predator might smile at his prey. And I liked it!
"I knew it," he said triumphantly. "You're a natural submissive, aren't you?"
"Yes," I said.
I didn't fully understand at the time what it truly was to be a submissive. I knew I wanted to be taken. Especially by the hot alpha stud who held this power over me. But to what extent—at the time—I didn't know. I hadn't the faintest idea just how boundless my limits were when it came to Gary Bennett.
That was the first time we kissed—there, hidden behind all those coats—and for a panicked moment, I thought he was going to rip off my clothes right there and fuck me right there. Or would that have been what I wanted? Probably a combination of both. Isn't that always the way with the men who excite us? To a certain extent, from time to time, don't we all just want to be taken?
We gave the coats back to their rightful owners, and the night seemed to drag and would not end. I kept wanting Gary to do something like that again, but he didn't. Although every now and again, I'd get a knowing smile from him. And he did smack my ass several more times to hurry me up. He even once did it just for kicks—I know, because that time, I hadn't been slow—and when I looked back at him, rubbing my sore ass cheek, he simply smiled at me mischievously. My panties were so wet by then I half-wondered if I'd wet myself.
When the place finally emptied out, and at last we left and got outside, that's when I got another kiss. This one was sweeter, and lasted awhile longer.
****
Gary and I kissed for awhile, just outside the club, as the snow gently floated down in the dead of the cold winter's night.
"I don't want to let you go," he said finally.
"I don't want you to let me go either," I admitted with some relief.
He smiled at me.
"What shall I do with you then?"
"Do you want to come home with me?" I asked, biting my lip, hoping that wasn't a little too forward.
He smiled again.
"You're sure I can't at least buy you dinner first?"
"I am pretty hungry actually," I admitted.
"Come on. I know a good place nearby."
I'm not sure why exactly I was surprised when the limo showed up. I had expected us to walk, though I wasn't looking forward to walking in the cold. Though I realize I'd probably have walked off the Brooklyn Bridge if it was with him…
We got into the back of the limo, and there was a candlelit dinner, already waiting for us.
"How did you do that?" I said with an excited laugh.
"Magic," he said.
I laughed. It was a little white lie of course. Later, I would learn that, on a number of occasions, Gary had used this trick on a number of women he'd lured back to his limo. Well, perhaps 'lured' is a strong word. That makes him sound like too much of a predator. Then again, he is kind of a predator, in his way. Just not the kind a girl needs to be afraid of. Well, not afraid for her safety, anyway. Her maidenhead on the other hand…I couldn't imagine a woman with the will power to turn down a beguiling buck like him. Apparently most women could not either. Weeks later, when I got more acquainted with Chet, his limo driver, he would say "I don't know how he does it, but Gary always leaves the party with whatever girl he wants. Gary Bennett always gets what he wants." I figured out that Gary had probably ordered that dinner prepared before he'd even cast eyes on me. He knew he could have any woman he wanted. He just wanted to be prepared. I had to laugh at that.
At the time, however, it just felt so romantic. Although it was something he'd sort of prepared to ambush me with, I think he got as much out of our romantic candle-lit limo ride as I did. His predatory eyes were still there, but for the time being, the polite neighborly banter continued, and we learned a little about one another. Before the ride was over—perhaps because I'd drunk one or two too many glasses of wine—I admitted I was watching him dominate that Yvette girl, and that I'd touched myself a few times because I just couldn't stand it.
"You want—no—you need to be dominated," he said.
It wasn't a question. It was just a statement of fact.
"If it's by you, I do," I said.
"Well, we're here," he said.
I looked out, and sure enough, as promised, he'd brought me home.
"Would you still like me to come in with you?"
"Yes please," I said.
Gary sent Chet home with the limo, and followed me in.
"Sorry the place is such a mess," I said.
He didn't say anything. He just started eagerly kissing me again, pressing me against the door. Clearly he didn't notice the mess, or didn't care.
He tore off my clothing, article by article, until I was down to my bra and panties. I struggled to get him down to his boxers. He helped a little too, and when it came time to undoing his tie, he took it off and held it in one hand while deftly unhooking my bra with his other.
"Turn around," he said.
"Why?"
"Don't make me ask you again," he said, a little danger in his voice.
I did as I was told.
He pulled my hands behind my back, and tied them tightly—painfully tightly—with his tie.
He spun me back around and seemed to savor having me tied and at his mercy like that.
My pussy had never been wetter. I wanted to be fucked so badly at that point. I never knew how badly I'd wanted to be tied up until that point.
Gary kissed me on the lips passionately.
I kissed back, getting lost in the feel of it all. I instinctively pulled at my hands, which were tied quite securely behind my back. It was as though I'd already forgotten. I wanted to touch his face, and his beautiful, muscular chest. But also, feeling this feeling of helplessness with him made my pussy so wet! I just wanted him to tear my panties off and fuck me already!
He pulled away from the kiss.
I ached for more.
He took off his belt, and folded it over twice in his hand. He gave me a predatory look, like he was about to strike me to.
I was a little afraid. But I also wanted him to.
He struck me on the ass with his belt. Not terribly hard, but it felt like a slap, and I wondered if it was going to leave a welt.
"That's for making me ask twice. Don't let it happen again."
"Yes sir," I said.
He whipped my other ass check with the belt.
"You know how I feel about calling me 'sir'. Only my submissives call me ‘Sir’. So don't you dare call me sir unless you mean it."
"Yes sir," I said.
He whipped me again.
/> "Please Sir, let me be your submissive, Sir!" I begged.
He grinned.
"I'm way too fucking horny to discipline you properly tonight," he said. "Lead me to your room so I can fuck you."
Oh my…
I paused for the briefest of moments. I'm not sure why. I wanted to lead him to my room. I desperately wanted him to fuck me. I think I was just trying process everything.
"Now!" he shouted, and I felt the sting of his belt across my ass again.
"Yes sir!" I said.
He whipped me again.
"Hurry up! Don't make me wait."
I hurried along to my room.
I had to turn around, to grasp at the handle of my door behind my back. As I did so, Gary leaned in close, and I couldn't concentrate.
"What's the holdup?"
"Sorry…um…I…I'm not used to opening doors with my hands tied like this."
He smiled. He reached behind me and opened the door and let us into the room, and then shut the door behind us.
The room was dark.
I looked at his dark, unreadable face in the city light and moonlight which filled the room. He peered around the room, and then back at me as I stood there in nothing but my panties, with my hands bound behind me. I was feeling very exposed. So vulnerable. Feeling like I was about to be devoured by some kind of apex sex predator.
He stalked up to me.
His powerful frame loomed over mine like a phantom.
"Get on your knees," he said.
I did so without a word.
He took his belt, looped it around my neck, and then pulled it until it was tight, until it was almost—but not quite—choking me. He used the free end of it as a kind of leash, pulling me forward a little.
"I want you to suck my cock, Kayla."
Then he pulled his boxers down, and his cock sprang out.
His cock was…huge! So much bigger than I'd expected. It looked so hard and so swollen… He must have been really excited! I felt a mix of excitement and fear for my pussy. Would he be able to fit without really hurting me? I hoped so. I was certainly about as wet as I can get. That's about all I had time to think before he thrust his cock into my mouth, while simultaneously tugging at the belt, which now acted as a kind of choking collar.
Ganged in New York: 3-Book Bundle: Outnumbered Lady-Cop, Ganged by Yakuza, & Burgled! Page 8