“Right. Primitive, isn’t it? But it makes the sex amazing. Oh. That’s you.”
Cami was pointing to the Balls ‘n’ Chain booth, and Lindsey looked in that direction only to see another Sub Red on the spanking bench. Mitch was going to town on this one’s butt with a wicked-looking paddle, while Samantha cheered them on from the sidelines. She waved when she saw Lindsey.
“Amy came! She managed to get a deal on a standby flight! Amy, this is Lindsey, this is Replacement Red.”
Replacement Red. Ouch.
“Motherfrrrrrrr...” Amy hollered, as Mitch snapped a particularly evil pop against the flesh of her upper thigh. “Oh, hi. Pardon me if I don’t get owwwwwwwww!”
Amy was larger-framed than Lindsey, not quite as pale, but the hair was a match. Lindsey took a moment to envy the girl’s more substantial curves, although they must have made her costume a trickier proposition than Lindsey’s had been. Lindsey might occasionally wish she had more up top, but at least she never had to worry about covering enough of the girls. In her case it didn’t take much fabric to accomplish that.
Not that Amy looked worried about her costume or anything else. Her eyes were starting to glaze as Mitch worked her over, both of them apparently forgetting to hold back for the convention crowd. Mitch’s lascivious approval of Amy’s squirming and yelping was evident, and Lindsey wondered if Samantha was jealous or looking forward to reaping the benefits later.
“So I guess I have the afternoon off.” Lindsey couldn’t hide her disappointment.
“I’m sorry we’ve messed your con up, hon. Amy didn’t tell us she was trying to come, in case she couldn’t make it. She surprised us or we would’ve planned better, obviously. On the bright side,” Samantha pointed out, “you’re eligible for the costume contest again since you’re not an official member of our team. And you still got a free conference ticket and some meals out of the deal. Between you and me, I think Andy was torn about maybe asking you to alternate with Amy. Just because you have the look down so well. It would’ve been awesome in the publicity photos. But he couldn’t bring himself to have that talk with her when she’d just come from a funeral, so...but we will definitely call you again. And email you, and generally bug you. Besides, we’re Twitter friends now so you can’t ever escape me.”
Cami snorted. “I don’t get Twitter at all.”
After a flurry of Twitter proselytizing, Lindsey and Samantha said a fond farewell and Lindsey was free for the afternoon. She felt adrift, at loose ends. She’d given up her expectation of attending any sessions, and now the prospect of returning to her intended schedule felt like work, not play. Even the best panel of favorite celebrities paled next to the idea of folding herself over the horse and hoping she could talk Mitch into taking things a notch further, while dozens or even hundreds of people watched.
She begged off the next time slot’s presentation on female superheroes and told Cami she wanted to change out of her costume. That was true, but even more she wanted some time alone. It was all too loud and crowded, too many people and too much social interaction. She’d loved the audience but performing had also taken a lot of energy.
The hotel lobby was busy as usual, and there was a queue milling around by the base of the elevators. She decided stairs were a better idea, and after a few minutes she found the door to the stairwell and started the trek.
A few floors up, she heard the door below open and slam shut again, the heavy metal clanging into place with an echo. She paused by the next landing and glanced behind her, suddenly nervous and ready to bail if need be. On second thought, it had probably been foolish to take the stairs alone, even in the middle of the day. Who knew what weirdo might have followed her?
“Linds?”
Chapter Eight
Hearing Ben’s voice relieved Lindsey’s mind but did nothing to ease the frantic thumping of her heart. She started up the next flight, not sure she was ready to see him again yet, but froze when he spoke again.
“If I have to chase you all the way up to the room I’ll be so tempted to lead with the paddle.”
“You have a paddle?” She leaned over the metal railing and watched him approach.
“Yep. Paddle, cuffs. More condoms. Lube. I went on a shopping expedition this morning, but I couldn’t exactly tell you in front of everyone at lunch. Why aren’t you at the booth?”
“They let me go. Their original Sub Red came back. Why aren’t you off stalking Stan Lee or something?”
“I’m liking some of the modern indie artists more, these days.”
He joined her on the half landing between floors and walked into her, raising her hands over her head and backing her up until she hit the wall. She gasped at the icy shock against the exposed skin between her costume’s straps. The wall was cold cinder block, hidden under layers of thick paint the color of a mid-nineties computer. The least sexy place imaginable. Ben’s penis seemed to feel differently about the atmosphere. It was already hard, and he pressed it against her like he meant business. She didn’t even try to wriggle her hands free.
“I owe you an apology,” Ben said, to her surprise.
“What? For what?”
“In the restaurant. I should have—”
“Oh, I know you were just beating on your chest to show you were the stronger gorilla. I was embarrassed but I got over it. I would’ve been fine, though.”
“No, not for getting in the douche bag’s face,” he corrected. “I’m not sorry for that. He was out of line and I didn’t want him anywhere near you. I meant for earlier.”
Lindsey arched her back and tried to get closer to him, her body craving more contact even as her mind dithered about the advisability. She didn’t want to have this conversation with him now, or any conversation. She was still keyed up from being teased to insanity that morning on the horse. She was tired of thinking about things—she wanted to do them. Him. “Earlier?”
“I let you go. I should have held on.”
Awareness seeped into her horny brain. He meant the part when she walked away before he could mark his territory. “I told you to let go. You were just doing what I said.”
Ben shook his head and leaned in, nipping at her bottom lip. “Hey. Look at me.”
She looked and saw his familiar, amiable features transformed by determination. Despite his serious tone, she shivered with need. He was hot when he was bossy. Inappropriate, but undeniable. And he was still firm and insistent against her belly, his own body perhaps betraying his higher intentions.
“Lindsey, I should have held on anyway. I should’ve stuck to my guns until we worked something out. That was what you needed from me. I was an idiot.”
He wasn’t just talking about the restaurant.
She shrugged, at least the small amount she could with her hands trapped against the wall. “You can’t be expected to read my mind. If I’m saying something that’s the opposite of what I really want, then that’s my fault, not yours. Like you said, I was resenting you for giving the wrong answer when I wasn’t asking you the right question. Or something. Neither of us had all the information we needed.”
This wasn’t the kind of discussion featured in sexy comics. Too many panels, too many words. Lindsey twisted her wrists against Ben’s grasp, but he only shifted to a one-handed grip and held her tighter. The free hand let him get up to all sorts of additional deviltry, starting with slipping his fingers between the straps of her costume and sliding them out of the way to expose one breast.
“Oh, you shouldn’t.” But her eyes slid closed at the divine pressure of his fingers on her nipple. The costume didn’t allow for a bra. She wondered how long it had taken him to figure that out. Probably about a nanosecond.
“I’m standing between you and the door. Nobody can see. You think I’d let anyone else see you like this?”
“Not after what happened at lunch.”
“I want us to be back together again, Lindsey. But I should have set ground rules, I get that now. The first
rule is I will be acting like your big scary boyfriend if we’re out in public. No more letting random buttmunches think they can hit on you. I’m planting my...flag.”
“Does it wave around in the breeze?” She pushed herself into his erection, unable to resist, and received a sharp tweak on the underside of her breast for her flippancy.
“I’m not planting it in a smartass, I warn you.”
“Too late.”
“True. I guess I’ll have to deal. Since it’s such a great ass. The second rule is, you dress like that in public and I’m going to act like more than your big scary boyfriend. I’m going to act like your Master if you’re dressed like my sub.”
He’d been reading up some more. The words still sounded new on his tongue, alien to her ears, but he was getting it. She still wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t just putting on a good act for her benefit, though.
“I’ll think about it. Anything else, Master?”
“Just this.” He slid his hand down, fingers playing along strap edges, until he reached the bottom hem of her costume. The lowest strap hit at crotch level, at the bottom of her ass. He pulled it up almost to her waist and tugged on the black low-rise swim trunks she wore as a bottom layer. “Sub Red doesn’t wear this much under hers. And she rarely keeps even that much on for a whole issue. Her Master has access to her pussy at all times. It says so right in the comic. So take these off.”
The idea was equal parts insane and swoon-inducing. “But what if—”
“Take. Them. Off.”
He gave her that look, the one she hadn’t even known he could pull off. He was pulling it off now, and it licked over her from top to bottom, stern and arousing.
He’d said he wouldn’t let anyone see her like this. It was a short trip the rest of the way up the stairwell, and the stair door was near the hotel room. It could work.
Slowly, she hooked her thumbs inside the hips of her trunks and slid them down and off. Ben held out his hand expectantly and she passed the tiny black garment over. Even after she tugged the costume back down she felt naked, exposed, painfully hungry to be touched. He obliged her with a quick stroke of his fingers over her labia, ending with a tug to her clit ring.
“Good girl. Now come on, and for the love of god keep me between you and the closest door at all times.”
Wetness crested, dampening her upper thighs as Ben turned and started climbing the stairs. She followed a few steps behind on trembling legs. Fear of being discovered warred with desire, and by the time they reached their floor she felt ready to do anything Ben asked. Crawl, beg, roll over, fetch, anything.
They struck it lucky, and for once the hall was as deserted as the stairwell had been. It was an uneventful trip to the room, despite Lindsey’s exciting mode of dress. When the door closed behind them, Do Not Disturb sign firmly in place, things got more interesting in a hurry.
* * *
“You can keep the boots on this time,” he told her magnanimously, guiding her by the shoulders to stand near the foot of the bed. “Just the boots, though. Don’t move yet, I’ll be right back.”
Ben had stashed his morning’s purchases between the two connecting doors earlier. Now he unlocked Lindsey’s side and retrieved the bag he’d tried to feel proud and badass about carrying up to the room. It was tough. The bag was extremely pink and white, and full of questionable items. But he comforted himself by thinking about using all those items on Lindsey. Now that moment had arrived, and his cock was thrumming with anticipation. It strained against his zipper like a ready horse at the starting gate.
He had to ignore that. More mightiness. He pulled one purchase out and tossed the bag to the floor by the bed. Lindsey’s eyes widened at the satisfyingly heavy thunk it made, then got bigger still when she recognized the crop sticking out the top of the bag.
The plan, stick to the plan. To cut her visual input off—and lend him some cover while he figured out the bed strap things—he secured the blindfold over her eyes. After about a second of intense debate with himself, he carefully tugged her costume up and off, revealing Lindsey’s body with a faint grid of impressions where the stretchy fabric had lain snugly against her skin. The upside to undressing her was that he could ogle her while he got everything else ready for their scene. The downside was that he wouldn’t be able to help ogling her, and she was already pushing him to the brink of his patience just by standing there being herself. Herself, naked, was almost too much for him to withstand.
He had his own form of masochism, however. Taking Lindsey by the shoulders again, he turned her to face the bed. “Feet apart. Lace your hands behind your neck.” He planned to learn all the official positions at some point, geek out on protocols and role-play some John Norman novels. But for now he relied on stuff he’d seen in kinky pornos. It seemed like a great pose, though, and he hoped it made the official list. With her arms up, Lindsey’s small champagne-glass breasts rose even higher and looked more rounded. He noted with approval that her nipples were erect, rosy and full. The room wasn’t cold enough to account for most of that. And he could see her cunt, sweet and flushed and, if he wasn’t mistaken, already wet. For him. Because he was frickin’ Superman.
Or maybe just Clark Kent. Superman probably wouldn’t have had to resort to a pocketknife to get the bubble pack open on the kinky bed straps. The blindfold was seeming like a better idea all the time, because he could remain Superman as far as Lindsey was concerned. She didn’t get to see Clark bumbling around and accidentally popping the fitted sheet off first one corner of the mattress, then the other. Or observe how his hands shook when he brought the cuffs out of the bag and laid them out on the foot of the bed, imagining all the while what Lindsey would look like wearing them.
He pulled out the paddle but left the crop in the bag. It was for a later phase of his plan, and he wouldn’t need it this afternoon. Lindsey gave an adorable squeak when he patted her butt with the paddle, a gentle tap of leather against skin.
“Do you know what that is?”
“Yes, Master.” She sounded like the most expensive phone-sex girl in the world. Her normally throaty voice had gone even softer and richer from arousal. Ben had to stifle a whimper and beat a hasty retreat instead of continuing to tease her with the paddle. All in due time. Next on the agenda was dirty talk.
“I’m going to enjoy turning that ass bright red before I fuck it, slave.”
Slave? He hadn’t planned to call her that. He’d picked it up from the comic, he supposed, as it was what The Master called Sub Red. But it felt right somehow, too. Weird but right, like all of this. Like things clicking into place that he hadn’t known were out of joint. Not all the time, maybe, but in this situation at this moment...yeah, slave worked.
“The bed is about three feet in front of you. I want you to crawl over to it, climb up and get on all fours.”
Hesitant, fumbling, Lindsey knelt and crawled the few paces to the bed, oriented herself to the edge and climbed up. He thought it had to be on purpose, the way she lifted her legs so slowly and carefully, arching her back to show the maximum amount of pussy with every move. His little geek girl, the secret sex kitten.
Not so secret at that, he mused, thinking about her performance at the booth earlier. Every straight guy in the crowd wanted Lindsey, he was pretty sure. If they could see her now, settling obediently on hands and knees in the middle of the bed like a submissive vision, they’d all want to hit that. Some of them literally, but probably all of them figuratively.
And he was the one who got to. He heaved a sigh of relief that nobody had snapped her up in the interim, that she hadn’t gone and found herself some Prince Charming as a rebound guy while Ben was off being an idiot. He’d gotten lucky with this second chance, luckier than he ever deserved, and this time he wasn’t going to fuck it up for himself. Or for her.
Ben panicked for a second or two, unable to recall whether he’d planned the cuffing and tethering for before or after the paddling. The paddle was already in his hand,
which settled things pretty quickly. He stalked up to the bed, losing a smidgen of his Domly mojo when he had to climb up there himself and kneel behind Lindsey to reach her ass because his arm wasn’t long enough to reach if he stayed on the floor. But the first test-whack restored it and then some. Her whole body reacted, a ripple of movement that spoke of pain and lust. And she made a sound...dear God, that sound. Another whack, another moan, and he remembered another part of the plan he’d missed.
“Getting a little loud, I think. Good thing I’m prepared for that.” Climbing off the bed again, he dug around in the bag, returning to Lindsey’s side with the bit gag. Because of the blindfold she was confused at first, and his cock throbbed anew when he finally had to order her, tapping on her chin to reinforce the message.
“Open for me, slave.”
She did, and the gag went in, and after a second she groaned again. Muffled, this time, of course. A second later, Ben groaned in a different way, slapping his palm to his forehead.
“Crap. With that in, how will you—”
Say her safe word? The pornos hadn’t covered that. The technical manuals probably did—some of the level of detail was downright clinical—but he hadn’t had time to read that far yet. And now he was tipping his novice hand to Lindsey, big time, and he knew he wasn’t supposed to do that.
She tapped his arm and held up her hand, waggling her thumb up and down. An obvious solution. A brilliant solution. His wickedly smart pixie.
“Like the Romans. Got it, thanks. Sorry.”
He heard a thwarted “eh” noise, and she waved her hand dismissively then swirled her finger in a “moving right along” sort of way.
She slammed that hand down hard to brace herself when he slapped the paddle against her butt again. And again and again, until Ben was breathing almost as hard as Lindsey, and her lily-white skin bore a set of mottled dark red and pink imprints from the crest of her ass all the way down to her upper thighs.
The Seduction Hypothesis Page 9