by Nikki Sex
"Now that's more like it," Ron said and hopped down, picking her up by the waist and setting her down beside him.
"That's new," she said. "Excellent." They walked together, and Kelly and Ron met up with another Sub/Dom couple staring at the scene on the big screen.
Kelly looked imploringly at Master Ron. It violated a number of taboos for a sub to talk any old time she wanted, either to another Dom or to his sub. This was a trial to Kelly who was a bit of a social butterfly. However, having made mistakes previously, she had learned her lesson. While still a little unsure of the correct way to do things, now she simply tended to keep her mouth shut and let her Dom talk for her.
Ron smiled at her, knowing exactly what she wanted. He said to the Dom, "We've missed it – what's happened so far?
The Dom had his arm around his sub, idly caressing one breast, and occasionally pulling her nipple ring. "Well, he's finished with the woman. She's out back - her own Dom is attending to after care. Master John was showing him a few tricks. I think she must have been allowed to climax four or five times, the last when that bullwhip of his managed to flick right on the woman's clit."
"Honestly? Her clit? Ouch," Ron said.
"I swear, I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. He talked to her first, and no one knows what he said, but she was up for it. The woman's body jerked like she had been hit with a hundred and twenty volts, and she screamed like she was on fire, but I couldn't see the color of her eyes any longer – they were that dilated. Her hips pumped like a piston, so hard and fast when she came – it looked like she was on amphetamines. Yep, that little sub came hard, just like a runaway train."
Kelly's eyes widened and she and Ron exchanged a look.
Trains again! Kelly thought, curbing an impulse to giggle.
While Ron obviously attempted to maintain composed features in front of the other Dom, she could see his eyes were dancing with amusement. "Really?" Master Ron asked. "Like a train you say?" he added, encouraging the man with a tongue in cheek smirk.
Hiding her smile with a hand over her mouth, Kelly looked down to stop herself from laughing out loud. She faked a little cough, and glanced up to see Master Ron was also holding back laughter. Why couldn't she just fall in love with Ron? He was such fun. Why must she have this impossible attraction to a serious, dark, super scary guy like John Taylor?
"Oh yeah," the Dom continued speaking, "but she had been flying in the zone for some time anyway. That's one experience she'll never forget. "
"What about this guy he's working on now?" Ron asked.
"Oh, you arrived just in time for the finale."
Ron studied the screen. "How can you tell?"
The Dom laughed. "This isn't my first party, you know. Father John had this male sub on the X frame for some time, and now he has him in classic stappado bondage. No one can manage that sort of binding for long, especially while being tormented."
Kelly watched the Dom's shorter sub grin up at him, and he ruffled her short, bright, bottle red hair in response. It was a companionable moment between them. Kelly thought they both had that natural spontaneous response to the tormented comment, and smiled. His sub was probably looking forward to experiencing a bit of sensual torture herself.
"This is the finale," the Dom said. "Father put him there because he's almost ready to reach the pinnacle of his scene."
Damn, Kelly thought. It's almost over. She stared over at the big screen and her eyes locked on Father John. He was faced away from her, and Kelly was treated to a view of him from behind, his powerful shoulders, tight ass and muscular frame.
Yowza. OMG that man is so hot! But even more sizzling and intense when working a scene. Kelly wondered what it would be like to have all John Taylor's attention focused on her. A thrill of delicious fear and sexual need rolled over her. That thought alone almost had her panting, and caused a flood of pooling heat low in her belly and between her legs.
7. Angelic Smile
Kelly saw that Father John's sub's arms were bound behind his back.
A rope ran from his full forearm wrist cuffs to a securing point on the ceiling. The man's arms were lifted until he had been forced to bend forward. A spreader bar kept his wide legs apart, and a huge vibrating butt plug completed the picture. Kelly knew this agonizing effect was called strappado bondage. The position was torturous in itself. It would be an interesting balancing act. The man's cock was huge and dripping – usually he would be wearing a condom but management probably thought it made a better show without one. How the man had been able to prevent himself from climax was anybody's guess.
Kelly studied the scene intently. Numerous objects were carelessly thrown around on the floor nearby, paddles, floggers of different shapes and sized, canes and riding crops. Man, Father John must have been really riled up because this guy was getting the works. He had vivid red welts pretty well all over, and many of those clearly from the attentions of the bullwhip. Sweat was dripping from the man, and he was breathing heavily, his upper torso rising and falling with each breath. Yet a close up of his expression showed that the man was pretty well off somewhere in super sub space. Maybe even outer space.
Father John looked fairly satisfied as well, compared to his usual detached state. He moved to the sub with his bullwhip in his hand, and just lightly touched the man's shoulder, and then rested it there. The sub responded like a newlywed lover, trembling with sublime ecstasy at only one small touch from his tormentor. John spoke to him, lifting three fingers, and the man nodded.
Father John stood back, and raised his arm and shoulder then cracked the whip hard to the floor. The sound was chilling. He did it once again and this time the tip lightly touched the sub's buttocks. Twice and it slammed into the butt plug, causing the man to jerk, and on the third crack, Father John flicked the sub's left testicle – just a small kiss with the tip of the whip.
A red welt appeared instantly. The man's balls drew up as his entire body stiffened – then he screamed. It was a bloodcurdling cry of pain – or pleasure – Kelly wasn't exactly sure, but it was an animalistic shriek that really scared her. It sounded like the trumpets of Gabriel, a frightening portent signifying the end of all things. Instinctively she leaned into Master Ron for support.
The sub's cock began to spurt like a fountain as the man's hips bucked and thrust. The muscles of his back and buttocks rippled while the man spewed in pulsing, copious strings of ejaculate. The sub was crying, floods of wet tears trailing down his face and all the while he kept repeating, sobbing and calling out, "Father! Father! Father!"
Father John moved to the man, loosening first the spreader bar so he could regain his balance, and then lowering the tension on his arms, and unhooking his cuffs. While of average height, John was strong. With biceps bulging, he effortlessly picked the large boneless sub up completely, tenderly carrying him in his arms, while looking down into the man's face. Hundreds of people watched, and there was movement, talking, laughing and discordant noises everywhere.
Despite everything, Kelly saw that John and his sub were only aware of each other. To them, in this moment in time, they were the only two people on earth.
Father John slowly, with careful encouragement and consummate skill, had brought him to this state of bliss. Despite the endorphins coursing through his system and the mindless, transcendent ecstasy of sub space, the man was wholly conscious of his Dom. The sub's emotional response was transparent - easy for anyone to read: devotion, adoration, love.
Kelly felt extraordinarily drawn to the scene before her. The handsome young Dom, John Taylor, always seemed intimidating, dispassionate and implacable to Kelly. Right now he displayed an array of possible emotions as he gazed at his submissive. Unlike his sub, John was not easy to read.
Kelly tried to comprehend, what was John feeling right now? Loving? Protective? Whatever it was, Kelly was stunned to recognize that it was truly beautiful. There was a palpable connection between the two men, a bond that couldn'
t be seen with one's eyes – yet anyone with even a drop of humanity would recognize it.
Father John looked down at the sub in his arms - the man who had willingly given him everything that he had been capable of giving, and then had reached further, digging deep, and given him even more. John's handsome face was serene, almost angelic. His lips curved infinitesimally in a blissful smile of contentment.
John had never given Kelly the impression that he was a happy soul at peace with himself, and he never smiled. But he did so now.
Kelly couldn't hear Father John, but she saw him speak to the man in his arms. She wasn't a lip-reader, but she could swear she saw him mouth the heartfelt words, "Thank you." And then he added what looked like, "…forgive you."
Had Father John said, "I forgive you?" Or had he named someone and said that whoever it was, "forgives you?"
Kelly's curiosity burned. It seemed important to know exactly what Father John had said. But she would never have the courage to ask him.
8. Close Call
Kelly left the ladies dressing area, shutting the door behind her. She smiled and said good night to the friendly guard, Tom, and then got into the elevator that was already waiting. It had been a great night. The scene with Father John was awesome, and sex with Master Ron had been fun and satisfying. Alone in the elevator, she smiled to herself as the doors started to slide shut.
Long white male fingers stopped the elevator doors from closing. Kelly immediately looked up… and then stopped breathing.
John Taylor, with unconscious, confident animal grace strode inside like he owned the place. He looked so masculine, so dominant, and tough. The man was wearing his black leather Matrix-style trench coat, black leather pants and black swat boots. John's dark hair and eyes, combined with his Matrix look reminded her of Keanu Reeves. Only Reeves, who Kelly considered to be an undeniably hottie, could never be as attractive to her as John Taylor was.
"Oh," Kelly said, thoughtlessly in her utter shock of surprise.
John nodded to her, and a zing of pulse pounding lust went straight to her pussy. The man was seemingly oblivious of Kelly's consternation, while she could feel her stupid pale cheeks heat with awkward discomfort. Kelly became aware then that she was gawking - staring stupidly at him, with her mouth open. Quickly, she shut it and looked away.
Holy Mother of God, she thought as the elevator doors closed with finality. And "oh" that was all I could say to him? That and staring with my mouth open. Man, I am sooo lame!
Kelly kept her eyes trained to the front, a task difficult to achieve. She loved looking at John Taylor, and when visiting the Basement she did so as much as she could possibly contrive. Fascinated and incurably drawn to the hot Dom, she had always taken care to stay away from him, too. Feasting her eyes on him whenever possible, Kelly still dodged and hid like a rabbit. Avoiding him was like trying to escape the jaws of a wolf. Because what would she say if John Taylor came for her at the sub's gallery? Would she even have the ability to refuse him? The man was dangerous, for Kelly knew that she would be as pliable as sculptor's clay in his hands.
Kelly took a deep breath and bit the inside of her cheek. Clay in his hands. Even that simple thought made her instantly wet, and her brain went completely out of gear and shifted into 'neutral.' Or was it in 'park?' Her mind returned to the fantasy of him that she had masturbated to the night before. Kelly shut her eyes, imagining John kisses, his hard male body thrusting inside her. So stupid as they were both things he never did with anybody, male or female, as far as anyone knew.
What was wrong with her? But the answer was obvious. I'm alone in a tiny room with Father John! Kelly wasn't sure if she was terrified or ecstatic, and both emotions warred with each other for supremacy inside her mind.
But damn if the man didn't smell great. What was it? Sandalwood and healthy male sweat? She risked a glance in her peripheral vision. Oh God! Kelly's hands went to fists as she suppressed a burning desire to touch him. John Taylor looked as if he might have had a shower as his short straight hair was wet. Of course it could just be sweat. Wielding a flogger or a bullwhip over a long period was pretty damn physical. Kelly felt her heart speed up and nervously licked her lips.
Dark and dangerous, John Taylor was the kind of man her mom always warned her about. Of course Mom had no idea that Kelly was a sexual deviant. The thought of her mother finding out about her BDSM kink cooled her ardor for a moment as if she had been dunked in cold water. Of course this sensible slap of reality couldn't last. Not with the guy she had a crush on standing right beside her, making every female hormone she had come to life and start singing with boundless, lustful, procreative joy.
Not long after the elevator doors shut, the lifting mechanisms began to hum, and thankfully the elevator began to move upwards. Just standing next to John Taylor, Kelly could swear that she could feel his male heat radiating an intense energy against her flesh. What was this irresistible pull of the man? Was it pheromones? Jeeze Louise, even her legs felt weak. Couldn't this elevator hurry up? Once it stopped on the ground floor Kelly would make a quick exit and escape the inexplicable masculine allure of Father John.
Or at least that was what she thought would happen.
She couldn't have been more wrong.
9. Disaster
The overhead light flickered.
Then suddenly all light extinguished as the elevator thunked to a stop, falling with a frightening jerk. The darkness was complete.
Kelly froze to utter stillness as if she was sculpted in ice. A familiar wave of nauseous fear flowed through her and she felt her skin instantly dampen in a cold, cold sweat.
A number of things happened all at once then, in an instant of mind-numbing insanity.
Kelly felt a heavy pressure in her chest and her heart seemed to skip a beat – but after that it began to race. Lightheaded, somehow Kelly felt there wasn't enough air in this small room, and she simply couldn't breathe. A weird sense of detachment took over and her ears rang – she heard a terrifying, blood curdling scream. It was the sound someone would make if they were going to die - or else the sound of someone dying.
When her face was slapped hard, once, then twice, she realized an astonishing fact. Oh, she thought with an oddly blank indifference. It's me who is screaming.
"Kelly? Kelly! You will speak to me now," a demanding voice said.
Kelly felt her arm wrenched backwards in a bone breaking twist, which slammed her up against the wall face first. It really hurt! Then strong fingers wrapped around her throat. John! OMG Father John! It was still dark, and she was still trapped, but this new terror seemed to return her to the present.
"Oh," she sputtered, "I'm sorry."
"Good girl," he said calmly. He tightened his fingers on her throat and dread thrilled through her, as well as a full body tremor. Jesus, was Father John going to strangle her after all?
"Kelly," he said softly into her ear, with his long heated torso pressed up against her back. "Are you more afraid of this small, dark room, or of me? Answer me now," he commanded.
"You…you, Sir," she stammered. "I'm more afraid of you."
"Good girl," John said, and his dark voice seemed full of restrained violence. "That is correct. I am much more dangerous, I assure you. You will call me John. You are now going to sit down here on my lap."
Sit, yes, she thought, because she seemed to have lost all strength in her legs. One strong arm slid behind her, to support her. Like a rag doll, she collapsed into him, letting John's self-assured powerful arms position her. They slid to the floor together, and then she was sitting across his hips and thighs, exactly as he wanted.
Her mouth felt dry as sand. Kelly swallowed, and felt her throat muscles work underneath the strong grip of his fingers. All her attention was fixed on Father John and what he may do next. He was so much stronger than she was, it would be a simple task for him to throttle the life out of her. Stretched out across John's lap, he had Kelly's arms behind her back, both slim wrists tightly
confined by one big male hand. His other hand moved from her neck to press her head hard against his chest.
The man radiated a comforting heat - it felt incredible! Kelly had no idea until that moment that she was shaking with cold. She became aware of his leather Matrix trench coat as he folded it around her, and in the back of her mind she knew that John had taken it off. But when had he done that?
"You're hyperventilating," he said in a tone utterly devoid of compassion. "Slow your breathing down, Kelly, or I will slow it down for you."
This compelling threat pushed into her mind, forcing her brain to wake up and start working. OMG, she wondered wildly. Will he choke me again? Warm male fingers brushed along her throat, a potent reminder, and she suddenly found that she could control her breathing.
"That's right. Good girl," he said in a soothing, seductive whisper. "Now, listen to me. Can you hear my heart beat?"
With her ear held firmly against his chest, she could hear it when she tried. "Yes," she whispered. It was slow and quite loud, pounding along with vitality and health in a steady rhythm.
"Pay attention now, Kelly. I want you to count the beats for me. Count them out loud. Do you understand?"
"Yes." There wasn't much Kelly thought she could manage in her current witless state, but counting was certainly one of them. Oh, okay, I can do that, she thought, unaccountably pleased. She began, "One, two, three, four…."
When she had counted to a hundred and eighty he said, "Stop now, Kelly."
Kelly stopped counting and took a deep breath. Her anxiety levels were still off the charts, but she felt much more in control. John stroked the hair on her head, and then traced parts of her face, eyebrows, nose, cheeks and lips. His warm fingers were both gentle and calming. "You have done very well," he said.
The ridiculous sense of joy she felt at his praise was beyond anything. That alone warmed her.