Would it have cured me?
There was a time in his past when he would have made an equally bad choice. Who was he to judge someone else’s desire to act out against their submissive tendencies?
He left the room and took the next right down a narrow corridor. He didn’t have to look to know she’d followed. Maybe a part of him hoped she wouldn’t. That he would turn, and she would have fled the Underground. Instead, her scent lingered at the edge of his awareness. It wasn’t light and airy like most females. It was dark and wild, tinged with the kind of frustration Malachi understood.
Her heels clicked against the stone floor, her long legs easily keeping time with his strides. He began to focus on his breathing. Something about her rattled him. He didn’t like it, but as with anything else, it could be controlled. He’d learned to master his body and his emotions at great personal cost. He wasn’t going to fall to pieces over one scrap of femininity in a red dress.
As soon as they’d turned into the passageway, they had gone beyond the boundaries of the club. These areas were out of bounds to everyone but employees. A set of stone steps indicated the end of the hall. Solid steel doors barred the way outside.
“There’s your exit.” Malachi gestured to the doors. “Just knock on the door. Owen will unlock it and let you out. It dumps you right back on the street where your car was parked that night.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” She propped one hand on her hip and gave him a thoroughly mistrustful glare.
It rankled that she doubted his word. He had a sudden craving to teach her just how serious he was about keeping promises. He wasn’t the one who’d tried to have her against her will on a public street. “If you don’t believe me, go and check.”
A desire to do exactly that lingered behind her green eyes. “Whatever. I’m still looking for the privacy you promised me.”
Malachi reached for the key hanging around his neck. He unlocked the door to his left and shoved it open before making a sarcastic, sweeping motion with his hand. “After you.”
It was impossible not to appreciate the sway of her hips as she sauntered in ahead of him. Her scent floated behind her, sinking into his senses like a siren call. Malachi exhaled slowly, deliberately, locking down anything but the independent side of his personality he’d worked so hard to cultivate.
“What is this place?” She walked to the center of the room and spun in a slow circle.
He knew she would immediately realize he’d brought her into an old chapel. More than that, he sensed she would also understand the odd incongruence of the setup. “It used to be a private sanctuary for one of the high-ranking clergy. Now it’s a training room.”
He gave her a moment to soak it in, not wanting to press her until his instincts told him she was ready.
The space was a long rectangle. Stained glass depictions of the archangels lined the top half of the outside wall. The location was partially subterranean, but the windows allowed a generous amount of soft, colored light in during the day.
She pointed to the bed. “Is that where you sleep?”
The oak and iron monstrosity was covered in a fitted black PVC sheet. It was intimidating and massive, obviously intended for use with restraints. “Does it look like it’s meant for sleeping?”
He didn’t expect her to answer, and she didn’t disappoint. She drifted toward the other end of the room. There was a cage in one corner and a St. Andrew’s cross in the other. Both were more decorative than anything else. A set of stocks sat nearby, several framed black-and-white photos of historic Salem hanging overhead.
She shot him a smug smile. “This looks like a torture museum. Do you actually use anything in here?”
“This isn’t my space.” Why had he told her that? “It’s just a room the club offers to members.”
At one time he’d helped break in submissives with the tools in this room. He’d used his position at the club to train Doms to be good masters. Being a submissive that had spent years at the mercy of a cruel mistress, he’d seen it as a crusade. Lately his participation in the local community had dwindled to nearly nothing. He was in a long-term relationship, though his partner was in favor of his participation in those breaking-in rituals. Somehow increasing his mental strength had become more important than the new D/s relationships of others.
So why the change? Considering her a new sub is crazy.
It felt too right to have her here. Strange, yet inevitable. He wondered further, contemplating what his partner might think of him bringing a woman to the playroom. Especially a woman they’d both felt compelled to rescue from her asshole ex-husband.
No, I’m not going there. Not now.
“Dare I even ask?” Selena tugged one of the nylon straps resting against the wall, making the harness jingle.
Her slightly sassy tone dragged him back to the here and now. She’d discovered the sex swing hanging near a set of wall restraints. A collection of floggers, whips, and canes were arranged in an open-fronted cabinet made of polished oak, and a tower was pushed off to one side, but the table seemed to interest her the most.
She ran her fingers across the padded, leather-covered surface. The design was custom. It had been fitted with stirrups that allowed a sub to keep their legs up, spread, and held out of the way without the use of manacles. In place of the straps generally used to tie a lover down, it had handles.
Selena wiggled a stirrup. “Looks like something I’ve seen in the gynecologist’s office.”
Malachi studied her in silence. She didn’t seem apprehensive. There was curiosity mixed with a good bit of skepticism in her voice. Any other time he might have been concerned that a potential submissive didn’t even seem to anticipate the experience, except he was starting to realize Selena was extremely adept at hiding her emotions. She had repression down to an art form. Even with Wilhelm threatening her that night, she’d only exhibited defiance.
He took a deep breath and wondered if he would regret this later on. “Are you willing to obey me for the next, say—half hour? Will you do as you’re told and allow me to pleasure you?”
Chapter Three
Selena wondered what Malachi would do if she outright laughed in his face. This place looked like it had been copied straight off a bad movie set, probably some kind of cheap porn flick, but why shouldn’t she give him a measly thirty minutes? She didn’t have anywhere else to be anyway. She was starting to think she’d been overly fanciful about what had happened that night. At least thirty minutes of dungeon time would tell her that much.
She shrugged, making sure to let her body language show him exactly how skeptical she was. “Sure. Whatever. Thirty minutes of doing what you say.”
“Strip out of the dress, please, Selena. Being naked will make this experience better for you.”
The low, commanding tone of his voice made her fingers twitch. Her brain didn’t make one argument when she grabbed the stretchy red material of her dress and yanked it up and over her head. She wasn’t wearing anything else since her panties had been sacrificed to the incident with James What’s His Name. She’d gone out with the intent of having some sort of no-strings-attached encounter. This wasn’t precisely what she’d expected, but so far her expectations had only been met with disappointment, so what did it matter?
Cool air raised goose bumps on her skin, and her nipples beaded into tiny points. Selena wasn’t uncomfortable with being naked. She’d spent far too much time in dance-school dressing rooms for that.
Malachi’s gaze raked her from head to toe. He’d already seen her without her dress when he’d freed her from the stocks, but this was different. She was utterly aware of the way he looked at her. Her confidence wobbled. Did he like what he saw?
“Climb on the table and lay faceup. Place your feet in the stirrups.”
Following orders wasn’t her thing. She’d spent almost her whole life governed by a code of behavior. In the last month she’d tried whatever she could to do the opposi
te. She waited for the feeling that had become so familiar, the desire to thwart the rules. It never came.
Something happened when she mounted the table and settled her feet into the stirrups. It was as if she quit thinking. Her mind calmed, stilled to a steady thrum of awareness and anticipation. She’d felt like this while she was dancing. Until right then she hadn’t realized how much she missed it.
Malachi approached the table. He was carrying some sort of whip with multiple tails. It looked surprisingly soft. “In a moment I’m going to touch you. I’ll use nothing but my hands and this flogger. I’m not going to penetrate you in any way.”
No penetration? How did he intend to bring her the best pleasure of her life if he wasn’t even going to fuck her? He was still talking, and she had to force herself to tune in to his words.
“In return, I need you to promise to do as I ask. As soon as you get up, we’re done here.” He gently moved her right hand to the handle above her head. “There’s a handle on each side. Hold tight, and try not to let go for any reason. If you let go, I’ll consider that a sign that we’re done.”
Wow, he wasn’t kidding around. She could sense the resolve in his tone. She found the webbing and held tight. Her heart began to pound with excitement and maybe a little bit of fear. “Is this going to hurt?”
His gaze narrowed. “Have you ever been spanked?”
“No.”
“Then there might be brief pain.” He touched her cheek with his index finger. “I promise it will only make the pleasure more intense.”
Why did she suddenly feel as if she were perched on a precipice? Nothing was ever going to be the same after this. She knew it, and she didn’t regret it one bit.
“Relax your legs.” His warm palm settled on the inside of her right thigh. “Let them spread open. The stirrups will hold you securely.”
Letting her legs go, Selena realized the position left her pussy wide open as well. She felt vulnerable and strangely achy without knowing why.
“I’m going to touch your skin with the flogger. Stay relaxed. It isn’t going to hurt.” His voice had become a comforting whisper. The tone was edged with sexual tension, lacing each instruction with something dark and erotic.
Soft leather kissed her belly. Anticipation had sensitized her beyond the norm. An enjoyable thrill radiated throughout her body. The light touch continued, the flat ends tickling her lower abdomen and then sliding across her open pussy before disappearing.
They reappeared on her breasts, circling, teasing, tormenting as they brushed across her distended nipples. She squeezed her eyes shut and forgot about everything else. Arching her back, she rose to meet the sensations.
Harder now, the flogger slapped the skin over her ribs. It stung but wasn’t unpleasant. The bite aroused her, made her want more. It hit harder again, the ends whipping across her left nipple until it smarted. She writhed with her hands fisted in the webbed handles, trying not to let go. If she let go, the sweet torment would stop. She didn’t want it to stop. She needed something more.
Malachi’s hand cupped her breast. His warm breath whispered across the taut mound. She moaned when he used his thumb to stroke away the sting. His hand continued to follow the path of the lashes. It rubbed gently over her breasts and belly, drawing circles against her skin.
Heat built at her core. Selena had never experienced this sort of longing. Her body craved the attention, focusing on his touch as if there were nothing else in her world. He caressed her belly. His finger slid around the rim of her navel before dipping lower.
She squirmed, trying and failing to hold still. He threaded his fingers through her short pubic hair. Instinct took over, and her legs tried to close.
The flogger snapped against her mound, the sharp sensation drawing a gasp from her lips. She opened her eyes, ready to give him hell, but her words died when she met the impassivity of his expression.
Somehow Malachi didn’t have to explain himself. She got it. Keep her legs open, or she’d get another lash. Her inner princess balked, demanding she get up and walk out. The rest of her knew better. If she left, the sensual experience would end. Selena didn’t want it to end. Ever.
Her breathing grew ragged when his hand inched closer to her pussy. She was spread open to his sight and touch. The position left her vulnerable, and yet she felt nothing but the sweetest anticipation.
“Count as you breathe,” he urged. “Four beats for each inhale, and four for each exhale. Measure it, focus on your breathing and not on what you’re feeling. You’ll be more in control of yourself that way.”
She wanted to argue that she was in perfect control, but that would have been a bald-faced lie. Her breasts were bobbing about as she gasped each breath. Worse, the closer he got to her crotch, the more she felt like sucking in air and holding it in her lungs.
One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.
Slowly, slowly, her heart rate began to slow. She heard him set the flogger down, felt it brush the outside of her hip as he laid it on the edge of the table. Was he done?
Oh. My. God.
Using one hand, he spread the lips of her sex. She felt utterly exposed. Her pussy was achy and wet with juices. When he slid the fingers of his other hand over her folds, Selena’s back arched so hard she thought her spine might snap.
Over and over he worked her cunt. Gently placing his thumb against her opening, he skated the pads of his second and third fingers through her slit until he reached her clit. He straddled it at first, teasing, coaxing, until a gush of creamy fluid bathed her pussy and his hand.
She flexed against his thumb, feeling her orgasm begin to uncurl in her belly. Heat pooled in her lower back and snaked through her limbs. Her counting got quicker as she anticipated the moment she would fly over the edge.
And then he stopped.
Not stopped, not really, but Malachi shifted his hand just enough to stave off her climax. Selena made a noise. The high-pitched sound echoed off the walls.
“Not yet, but soon,” he said. “I can make it better.”
The position of her legs left her ass exposed. Her pussy wept its frustration, juices slipping down the crevice between her openings. Malachi helped it spread, keeping his thumb on her slick cunt and lightly touching her anus.
Selena had no experience with this sort of thing. It shocked and excited her. His finger rimmed her puckered anal entrance. The teasing sent frissons of arousal straight to her core. Her pussy clenched hard. The sharp ache increased to a sense of emptiness she’d never thought it was possible to feel.
She began to climb. His hands were everywhere at once. Sliding across her asshole, stroking her sex, stimulating her until she was ready to soar. Every muscle, sinew, bone, nerve, and thought was centered on his touch. When he placed the pad of his index finger against her clit, she wanted to cry with relief.
He rubbed quick circles, faster, harder, until the table was shaking and she was panting in time with his strokes. The peak was coming, closing in until she could touch and taste it.
“Come, Selena. Come for me.”
She imploded, her pussy convulsing as a massive orgasm overcame her body. It seemed to go on and on, as if it were ripped from her soul. It wrung every ounce of tension from her muscles—the anger, the betrayal, the hurt, and even the awareness all drained out together until there was nothing left but oblivion.
Malachi wins.
Chapter Four
Malachi walked into the spray without bothering to let the water heat up. Icy drops pelted his muscles, rivulets running down his body to puddle on the tiled floor of the shower. He braced his palms flat against the cold wall.
One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.
Breath control had long ago become an automatic habit. To actually have to think about it was staggering. What the hell was wrong with him? Selena was just a woman. She was a woman struggling with a desire for submission, but a woman nonetheless. He should hook her up with a local Dom and be done with i
t.
His cock throbbed, calling his bluff. It was reflex to reach down and palm himself. He hissed at the contact, the sharp sensations unbearably intense. How long had it been since he’d allowed himself release? How long since he’d slipped the leash on his self-control and given in to desire? His partner had been out of reach for days. Had Malachi come since then?
Control was something he craved, but it also terrified him. It had always been so. Submission had come so naturally to him in the beginning. Sinking into obedience, letting someone else call the shots. For a kid who had spent his formative years saddled with a heavy load of responsibility, it had been the sweetest relief he’d known.
Until the price of submission became a price paid by someone else.
Tremors shook his frame. A chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water sank into his bones. The submissive and dominant sides of his nature clashed like magnetic forces of nature inside his psyche. His cock demanded release, yet he loathed the idea of giving in to the base desire coursing through his veins.
Like a demon whispering in my ear.
The thought calmed him. It was a reminder of the man who had unshackled Malachi from everything that held him captive. The only one Malachi would ever trust with his heart. The one he belonged to.
A man you’re going to betray because of a blonde goddess, because you didn’t listen when he told you deprivation would only make you weaker.
Anger swept Malachi’s resistance away. He wanted the last of Selena out of his system, even if it meant appeasing his lust with his own hand. Exorcising the image of her from his mind would be easy once his inner beast was sated and back under control.
Masturbation wasn’t unlike riding a bike. Techniques that had served him in the past weren’t easily forgotten. He stepped out of the spray and stroked his shaft, gripping tightly, sliding his fingertips through the silky fluid that beaded at the tip. The muscles in his haunches tightened, and a river of water sluiced down the crease of his ass. Surely this was an acceptable alternative.
Boston Avant-Garde 5: Bellicoso Page 3