by Nikki Sex
Behind the railing up in the sub's gallery, Kelly felt like an unwanted puppy, forlornly waiting for someone to buy her and take her home. But she didn’t want just any owner. Kelly wanted to belong to John Taylor. Kelly's friend Rosslyn sat with her, cheerfully watching the adventurous members in the BDSM world of the Basement go by.
"Hot damn," Rosslyn said. "Check out Mistress Cheryl."
Kelly's eyes obediently roamed to where Rosslyn had nodded. Mistress Cheryl had a red, skintight cat-womanish latex outfit on, and sexy thigh-high black boots with 'I'm sooo going to fuck you' wicked stiletto heels. Wielding a black riding crop with one hand and a black leash attached to her sub in the other, she looked dangerous. The intense commanding dominance of the woman even gave Kelly, a confirmed heterosexual, a little sexual buzz. Wow.
"She looks fantastic," Kelly murmured, awed because Mistress Cheryl was probably fifty but looked much younger. Her sub had on a black leather mask. Lots of people wore full masks around here. The Basement was a private club, expensive and extremely selective because people with high profile jobs needed to protect their identity. Intricate, difficult to meet membership standards, combined with a high price helped ensure privacy.
Mistress Cheryl's sub was on his knees, his masked face turned up reverently toward his mistress. The man had nipple piercings, and cock and ball rings all in red, matching her outfit. His jutting shaft was fully erect and wearing a condom, no doubt so he didn't drip pre-cum everywhere they went. Mistress Cheryl's submissive was clearly enjoying himself, and that made Kelly smile. Good for him. At least someone was happy.
Kelly felt sorry for male subs because of the stigma against them. So stupid to think less of a man for having submissive sexual needs. Why was it more acceptable for a woman to do so? One thing Kelly had discovered was that many powerful men outside these walls, men holding extremely key positions in society, were actually submissive sexually. Who knew? That man on his knees could be the chief of police, or the CEO of a multinational company.
The same was true for women of course. Confident, successful and dominant women outside the bedroom often wanted their partners to be in-charge during sex. There was no all-encompassing stereotype. People needed what they needed. Mind you, BDSM itself was such a societal taboo. For a moment, Kelly imagined her family finding out about her own sexual desires and cringed.
"Yep," Rosslyn said after careful scrutiny. "That outfit is tailor made and brand new. I bet her sub has a latex fetish and she got it especially for him, lucky guy. What an incredible figure. I think she must have had breast augmentation. What do you think?"
"I dunno," Kelly said doubtfully. "They look real to me."
Forty years old, Rosslyn Walker had recently divorced her vanilla husband that she had married at nineteen. The split was as amicable as could be, and unfortunately unavoidable. At Rosslyn's age she was apparently at her sexual height, and vanilla just didn’t cut it for her and never had. Few women understood their sexuality when they were nineteen. Kelly was just glad she had worked out what she, in general, needed in order to be fulfilled.
As for the specifics, well, John Taylor fit the bill perfectly.
Rosslyn's blonde bob was, as usual, a faultless coiffure, and her thin shapely blonde brows were amazingly expressive. Having her around cheered Kelly up. This was the fourth day of her trials of living without the utter bliss and heaven she had experienced from just one night with John on Saturday.
As if thinking of him caused him to appear, John Taylor himself began the walk up the ramp to the sub's gallery. His face was implacable, his firm lips set, and he walked with purposeful male animal grace.
Jesus, Kelly thought, her pulse kicking up and pounding loudly in her ears. He must be coming to Top me, because he had Rosslyn recently, and everyone knows that John never takes the same sub twice unless there were months between scenes. Kelly felt her face, neck and breasts flush red with heat. Thank you, Lord! John has to be coming for me. Could she even stand up? Kelly didn’t think so, her knees felt so weak.
John stood in front of both of them for a moment, staring intently.
Kelly could feel the dominant power of the man palpably radiating from him. John Taylor was a tremendous force of edgy, barely-contained, male sexual energy. Shit, just being this near to him gave her goose bumps.
Then John focused solely on Rosslyn, and gave her a curt nod.
Rosslyn blinked from that unexpected bombshell, and trembled. At once she put her shaking wrists out to John. John tied them and pulled her to her feet. Then he turned and strode away, certain that Rosslyn would obediently follow. Rosslyn looked back at Kelly with a WTF? shrug of shock, nervous anxiety, lust, and astonishment. And then they were both gone.
The world dropped away from under Kelly's feet.
John doesn't want me anymore, she thought with a silent, internal wail of pain. She was alone again, her eyes stinging while she tried unsuccessfully to fight back tears. Kelly was just one more unloved puppy, hoping, praying and waiting for her master to come and take her home. But her master didn’t want her. What could she do now?
With her mind reeling, Kelly zoned out somehow. She wasn't aware of how long she sat there, trying to pull her shit together enough to get up and leave the club. It could have been five minutes; it could have been ten or even twenty. All Kelly knew was that she was looking down and wiping her eyes when she abruptly became aware of John's familiar swat boots in her line of sight. The man had returned to the sub's gallery suddenly, completely taking her by surprise.
Kelly's head snapped up and she stared uncomprehendingly at John. "Where's Rosslyn?" she shot out without thinking. As per usual her mouth engaged before her brain did.
"I left her with Master T, not that it's any concern of yours," he replied in a deceptively mild voice that was filled with reproof.
"Oh. Sorry, John." After a long pause where his eyes remained unrelentingly upon her and he said nothing, Kelly finally murmured almost unintelligibly, "Did…did you get my letter?"
"Yes."
"Oh." Jesus, I am so lame. Why can't I talk? It was just that there was so much she wanted to say to John, and it was all bottled up inside her. It was as if the backlog of communication was so large that only a trickle of incoherent sound was able to get through. Kelly, the girl who always had something to say, that everyone agreed could talk underwater, suddenly found she couldn’t speak at all.
Never had Kelly suffered as much agony as she had these last few days, moving from joy and love and a sense of connection to a completely black despair.
John stood in front of her, large, confident, and utterly dominant. Fuck he was so beautiful, simply looking at him hurt. Kelly's stomach knotted. John's handsome face appeared cold and merciless. The way he was studying her seemed detached and possibly even disdainful. It was so difficult to identify what he was feeling when he wore that impenetrable, impassive mask.
Kelly simply couldn't bear his disapproval and disappointment. Unable to stand the dangerous intensity of John's scrutiny, Kelly's gaze lowered.
"Eyes up, Kelly," he ordered. Her eyes flew to his face. "I'm a Dom that prefers to see my sub's eyes."
Kelly's gaze remained on his, but she felt such joy at those words that her chest, which had felt so tight, loosened, making it easier to breathe. Kelly's eyes welled and tears trailed silently down her cheeks, but she ignored them. For the first time in days she felt a rush of hope. John had said 'my sub's eyes,' had he intended to do that? Perhaps he still considered her his?
Impulsively she blurted out, "Will you forgive me, John?"
"When are you here next?"
"Saturday night."
"Good. I'll Top you Saturday night. Be here at seven, I'll be at the ladies' change room door, so don’t be late. No makeup, and have an enema before you arrive. Agreed?"
An enema? she thought. Really? Shit.
Kelly had never had anal play, except the small amount she had experienced with John that one memorabl
e night. Right now, however, she would do anything to get back into his good graces. She recalled Rosslyn's words to her just last week: "You won't sing that tune when you fall for someone. There's nothing you won't do for your Dom then. You'll want to surrender any power you have completely, and let him do anything - just to see him smile."
Wow. Were those words prophetic or what? Now here she was, madly in love and willing to endure absolutely anything for this man she was completely gone on.
Motionless, John continued to stare at her. Kelly felt utterly exposed by his piercing gaze. What did he see when he looked at her? John was such a powerful Dom who seemed able to read minds. Kelly had experienced that already. Did he have any idea how much he meant to her? But John had told her he would Top her on Saturday, and that was two days away. Two days to wait and to worry.
Kelly licked her lips and swallowed. "Um, John, are we doing a, er, public scene?"
"I haven't decided, but that's none of your business now, is it?" John's deep seductive voice was soft and menacing.
Jesus. Kelly cringed. Her womb tightened and gushed. Actually she had become totally aroused the moment she had seen John, but that voice of his, and the words he spoke. Wow. It was as if her body recognized him as the one who had given her so much pleasure, and was instantly ready to go there again.
Kelly expelled a deep breath, wanting his touch, aching for him. She knew that no matter how John Taylor wanted to take her, she would submit to him. Kelly would be glad to have John's attention, any attention, even if it involved public humiliation or pain. Freely, willingly and more than anything else in the world, Kelly wanted to give herself completely to John Taylor. She knew she was due for some discipline, but exactly how much did he intend to hurt her?
She cleared her throat. "May I ask, John, um, are you going to use your bullwhip?"
"Again, that's up to me isn’t it, little sub?"
"Yes," she whispered with her heart pounding loudly in her ears. "Alright, John. I'll be there at seven."
John gave her a brusque nod, and without another word, he turned and left.
10. Discipline
Kelly arrived at the Basement a half hour early. Delaying anxiously in her car until a quarter to seven, she took the stairs down. Forcing a happy hello to Tom, she entered the ladies' change room. After washing her face and using the toilet she walked out to the main area and waited.
Was John going to be late, she wondered? Because she didn’t think her nerves could stand it if he was. This entire week had decimated any emotional stamina she had. Every single day she had to get up and pretend that everything was fine, she had to go through the motions, go to work and be her normally cheerful self.
It had been complete and utter hell.
If John's intention had been to break her completely, to make her a complete basket case, then he had been successful.
John strode up to her right on time wearing his traditional BDSM attire, black leather pants, vest and swat boots. He stood in front of her, studying her face with that compelling, possessive gaze of his. Now that he was here, Kelly met his eyes and she instantly felt so much better. The wait was over. John was in control. Kelly couldn’t give any power she had over to him fast enough. Even the bullwhip didn’t scare her anymore.
The last week had been a revelation, separating what was important and what wasn't.
Forget the bullwhip, intimidating open scenes with everyone looking on, and excruciating pain. Who cared about any of those things? Disappointing John, making him unhappy or living without him was all that truly frightened her. More than anything she wanted to see him smile. She needed to please him, to bask in his approval and his love. Kelly needed to be his, somehow. If he forgave her tonight then maybe they could get back to that wonderful loving bond they had forged together a week ago.
John pulled out a club tie and Kelly raised her hands. John bound her wrists, without touching her at all. Yet he never took his eyes from hers. Kelly shivered from his intense stare. Without a word, John turned and Kelly followed.
John took her to a room she had never been in before. It was private, thank God, not that she cared anymore. Kelly found it liberating, to not care. All her attention was centered utterly on John. During the last week her head had been full of stupid thoughts, rumination, mental self-flagellation and just plain noise. Now there was nothing, only tranquil peace. It was such a relief to be under his protection. To be his, if only for tonight.
The room was fairly normal, large king size bed, spanking bench, St Andrew's cross, various BDSM toys and tools. The only difference was the desk and lap-top at the side of the room, with papers on it. That was different. Was John planning on getting some work done?
John turned around. "Hands," he said.
Kelly raised her wrists and John untied them, again without even one brush against her skin. How did he do that? It made her desperate. Kelly ached to have him hold her, to kiss her, and be inside her again.
"Take your clothes off, Kelly."
"Yes, John," she said.
He watched impassively as she undressed, making no attempt to tease. This was a punishment, and John hadn’t asked for that. Still, Kelly knew her body was prepared for him already. Just being near John made her wet. Her breasts swelled, and her nipples hardened in the hope that he may yet touch her.
"Turn around. Hands behind your back," he growled with dangerous menace.
When Kelly complied he buckled on a pair of leather, fur lined cuffs and locked them together. Kelly noticed that he wasn't saying "thank you" to every order she obeyed, as he had before. Man, John was still seriously pissed off. Well, that was okay. She would work through it, because no matter what happened, she wanted to be his - if he would have her.
She bit her lip. If he still wanted her. Kelly was mad crazy in love with John Taylor and that was all there was to it.
11. Happiness
"Back now," he ordered and Kelly turned back toward him.
John stared at her with that intense gaze, that look that made her whole body tremble with a combination of excitement, apprehension and desire. Did John know how much he affected her? Kelly felt certain that he did.
"Knees," he snapped.
This dominant command blasted Kelly into a heated state of shameless lust. Was it the tone of his voice? Or the rough demand? Or the fact that her lips and mouth would be level with his cock? Kelly swallowed and carefully went to her knees, well aware that he wasn't going to help her. John pulled out a blindfold and put it over her eyes, locking it in place with the Velcro attachment.
"Be silent and be still. I'm going to jack off in your mouth, Kelly," he said. "You don't get to touch me and I'm not going to touch you with my hands. You don’t even get to see me. The most you're getting is my cock on your lips and tongue and my cum in your mouth. I'm still seriously displeased with you. Wet your lips, and then don't move."
"Yes John," she whispered, coating her lips with moisture.
Kelly smelled his rich musky male scent, and then felt the heat of him near her face. Kelly inhaled, simply wanting to breathe him in, intoxicated by the smell of him. She had to concentrate not to make a sound and to remain motionless, because just the thought of him made her entire body quiver with a primal, powerful need to take him into her mouth and lick and suck him.
John pressed his cock against her and rubbed the head of it around her wet lips. Kelly felt a thrill of desire and elation, because there was plenty of pre-cum there, so he wasn't as unaffected as he had pretended.
The memory of the first time he had climaxed in her mouth while trapped in the dark elevator shadowed the present, and her body trembled. The sounds of pleasure he had made, the joyous kiss he had given her afterwards, with his heartfelt, "Thank you, Kelly." My God, she had never felt so happy, knowing that she had made him happy.
John loved her mouth, and he wanted to use it. Fuck, she really wanted to be used by this powerful Dom. But only him. Kelly felt her entire body flush with
heat. I belong to John.
Jesus, she thought and once more she stifled a moan, her skin tingled from the magnetic pull of John Taylor. If I spend the entire night without a single orgasm I'll be okay with that. For the first time in her life, Kelly 'got' the full meaning of a being a true sub with the Dom she loved. John's happiness was hers. His unhappiness was hers. It was a simple concept, but the simple things were often the most profound.
Yes, yes, this is perfect, she thought, there on her knees, with her hands bound behind her back, and the Dom she loved using her body for his pleasure. Right there and then, Kelly knew what made her happy, and it wasn't anything at all to do with her.
It was all to do with John, and what he wanted. What he needed.
My God. I really am in love.
John's cock was hot and hard yet the velvet skin of it was soft. Kelly was desperate to please him. Kelly couldn't see anything, and John was silent, withholding all sounds of pleasure. She knew that he was doing this on purpose, to make the experience less for her. That was fine, because she trusted him. John knew what she needed. Already he had taught her so much. The man seemed to understand her better than she understood herself. What else would he help her discover?
The rhythmic sound of skin slapping back and forth rapidly came to her ears, and she felt his cock jerking against her lips. Remaining silent and still was difficult. She craved him so badly, to lick, to taste and suck but instead she controlled her own ferocious physical responses in favor of his needs. John came first.
"Open wide," John ordered in a husky, lust filled voice.
Kelly opened broadly, which was easy with a mouth the size of hers. Mercifully, John put his entire cock inside her. His cum jetted and Kelly swallowed greedily as his twitching shaft pulsed and his hot seed sprayed again and again in intermittent spurts. As he came he made only one barely audible grunt, but to her it sounded almost as beautiful as a love song.