by Gina Kincade
“Just watch.”
They sat at the table for what seemed hours as Maggie watched the room. It was rather bland to her thinking. If he was trying to bore her into changing her mind, this could work. It was anti-climactic on multiple levels. He pulled her from her thoughts quietly.
“Seen enough?”
Her head snapped to look at him confused.
“I haven’t seen anything but a cocktail party where some people are wearing costumes. What’s to see?”
A slow grin crept his face.
“Are you done with your drink?”
Maggie nodded, completely bored. “Yeah.”
“Good. Come with me.”
He waited for her to stand, moved next to her and again guided her with a hand at the small of her back. He pulled aside a drape and they disappeared into a hallway behind it. The noise from the main room was snuffed out as the drape fell back into place once they were through.
“The rules we discussed are still in play with an addition. Back here, we will observe. Some rooms have glass walls, where some have only a port hole to view from. What happens in the room determines the configuration. Understand so far?”
It seemed easy enough, so she nodded. “Yes.”
“Good. Regardless of how we are allowed to see, you will not react verbally or audibly in any way. Voyeurism in this fashion is a privilege. One that can, and will be taken away should you interrupt the players as they scene. Am I clear?”
Maggie wondered a moment at what she would possibly say, but assented before thinking about it too long.
“Yes. You’re clear. No sound.”
“Good girl.”
They moved to the far end of the hallway before stopping to observe a room. Inside the first room Maggie watched through a glass wall what appeared to be a classroom except the lesson being taught was a spanking. She was mildly shocked to see a man on his knees bent over the lap of a seated woman who was swatting his upturned, bare ass with what looked like a switch from a tree in the yard.
Both were facing away from the watching wall where she stood so the streaks of red that lit up the light flesh were evident. Maggie counted no less than a dozen stripes before she noticed the man’s face in reflection from a perfectly placed mirror on the far wall. His look was one of euphoria. They moved on.
The second room had only a port hole to view through. Thorne checked first before standing back for her to have a look. A naked woman was laid out on a table similar to the one Maggie and Thorne had admired together at Custom Helotry. The woman’s arms were shackled to the table above her head and her ankles the same at the opposite end. As Maggie watched a man approached the table and began dripping trails of wax from a candle down the woman’s torso. Judging by the looks of things, they’d been through another candle or two already. The woman moaned and shifted against the table and restraints. As she did, Maggie noticed that the woman’s nipples were rock hard and she was scissoring her thighs against each other. There was no doubt about if the woman liked it or not.
Another glass wall revealed a room with the saddle stand piece of equipment. Maggie blushed, thankful that Thorne was behind her. A woman was being spanked this time as she leaned against the middle of the stand on the balls of her feet. Instead of a switch, it was a long narrow paddle that was being applied. On the wall opposite where Maggie was watching were several other paddles in different lengths and widths. Some were solid, some had holes, and she belatedly noticed there were several canes in the mix.
At the next port hole was a stand that looked like a giant X. A naked man was spread eagle against it unrestrained. As Maggie watched, another man was behind him moving his arm like he was throwing a baseball without the leg lift and wind up. It was a brief pause in the motion before she spied the Cat-o-nine-tails in his hand. The movement as he lashed the other male was too fast to catch it at first.
The verbal between them was clear, even though the wall was more solid.
“Is that how you like it?”
“Yes.”
“Who gives this to you?”
“Only you master.”
“And what does that mean?”
“I am yours to command Sir.”
“Good boy. Keep it up. You please me and I will let you cum. Do you want to cum for me good boy? You do don’t you?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good boy. I’ll tell you when.”
“Yes Master.”
Maggie had to bite her tongue when the man against the X said “Please sir, may I have more?” It was all she could do to shove the image of Oliver and his porridge from her mind.
“That’s a good boy. Ask me again.”
The Cat flew hard and fast. The man against the X bucked but did not move from his position. Maggie was entranced by the thrower. Thorne’s hand at her back said it was time to move again. She noted the face of the man who was brandishing the Cat before moving on.
They rounded a corner and came up to a long wall of glass. Beyond and below a mass of bodies writhed together in a depressed area below the gallery where they stood. There had to be a couple dozen people in the room in every combination imaginable. A full blown orgy seemed to be happening with different players entering and leaving as they watched. Some acted and reacted of their own will while others were directed on what to do with whom. It was visual overload. They moved down the long wall and rounded another corner.
The next room was again a port hole. At the far end of a long room, a male was tethered to a leather wall facing them. Maggie took a long slow inhale being careful to do so soundlessly as she watched a naked woman throwing a long tail whip. Each strike was neat and precise. With each strike the male’s arousal grew.
The padded wall was muffling the sounds unlike the other room where the walls had been bare and she’d heard everything. Maggie wished she could hear the crack of the tail. She wished she could see more clearly too. Other than the part near the handle, the whip was all just a blur.
A short bit later she watched as the woman set the whip down and moved to sit in front of the man. The woman masturbated in front of him just beyond his reach. His face was frantic, his erection straining. Maggie thought he might even be begging but she couldn’t hear anything. She noticed the woman step down on a small ball near the chair leg. As she did, the bindings released the man and he fell on her taking over for her hands with his own, pulling her knees wide before eating her alive.
Once again, Thorne had to coax her from watching to move to the next room. She never got to see the woman’s full face. She’d remember the male’s though forever.
The next room was again a glass wall. Three couples were inside using toys. At least she thought it was three couples. It might have been two three-some's as she watched the combinations work two on one before switching to a different two on one set. Not so much beds as much as elevated padded tables, Maggie was exhausted watching the constant changing around.
The last two rooms were both port holes and she spent little time at either one. One was knife play and the other was fire play. There was nothing erotic or alluring about either option to her.
Thorne pulled the drape and ushered her back into the main room. They had gone all the way around and come out on the other side from where they started. He walked her back to the bar, collected a scotch for himself and water for her before they moved to a table near the one they had started the night at.
“Seen enough now?” he said a bit smugly.
Maggie sipped her water while she intellectualized a smart response.
“I’ve seen more yes. I still haven’t seen you in your chaps.”
Thorne didn’t even try to hide the growl.
“Funny girl. I don’t recall any chaps back there do you?”
Maggie tapped her chin in mock thought.
“No, I don’t. Perhaps I should have said I haven’t seen you out of your chaps then.”
A look that was pure predator crossed his face.
“Tread carefully Margaret. You are playing with fire right now and I doubt you realize just how hot the flame is.”
He still held the key to the collar, so Maggie phrased her last jab carefully.
“I’ll pass on the fire. I won’t lie though, I wouldn’t mind seeing you against that leather wall. That was insanely hot. I do believe however, since you asked, I have seen enough for tonight.”
He caught it, but Maggie was sure Thorne’s jaw had threatened to drop open on him at her comment. He studied her face wearing a completely baffled expression.
“I was right.”
His comment confused her.
“You were right about what exactly?”
He downed his drink and licked his lips.
“I’m not a saint.”
‘When I think about you...’
Maggie tossed and turned. Thorne had dropped her off earlier after taking his sweet time removing the collar. He had fingered the band for a long minute before unlocking it, sliding it from around her neck, and tucking it into his pocket. She had known before he pulled up curbside what would happen if she invited him in. Evidently he did too as he had put the car in park but left it running.
She had said she owed him for dinner. He’d dismissed it. The ‘thank you’ and ‘good night’ had been awkward. The air in the car had been laden with awareness and more than a hint of arousal on both sides of the console. The fresh air had slammed her awake when he finally came around, opened her door and helped her out. The kiss curbside too had been anything but chaste. He’d run his hand down her back and held her to him. He hadn’t needed to, she went willingly. The last ‘good nights’ and ‘sweet dreams’ had been full of longing, but they had separated and both managed to walk away. He’d driven off after she’d made it inside. Part of her wished he hadn’t. That part of her was still tossing and turning in the sheets now.
In her mind she replayed the evening. She lingered on and returned to the part with the man against the far wall. She wanted to be that woman. She wanted to drive someone to the point of need the woman had obviously managed to create. His want had been obvious on multiple levels. Sound had not been necessary to understand the state he was in. As she replayed it again in her mind she saw Thorne as the man. The visceral image was powerful.
Maggie snaked her hands beneath the covers chasing the goose bumps with her fingertips. Too overwrought, she’d had a shower and fallen into bed barely dried once she’d climbed the stairs and gotten inside her flat. As she watched Thorne against the insides of her eyelids, she trailed the flats of her fingers across her nipples. It was no surprise that they were beaded into tight points.
She ran the palms of her hands down her abdomen and thighs raking the nails back up as she remembered the different looks on his face through the evening; when he’d arrived for dinner, over the meal, and in the different reflections at so many points since. She could almost feel the velvet of his tongue against her softest skin as she focused on the reverberation of his growl. She knew if she checked that there would be dampness between her legs that had nothing to do with the shower she had taken. She hesitated.
Maggie ran all the images again in her mind, focusing on the one of him as the man on the whipping wall. She locked him into her minds’ eye, shifted her hips, and ran a finger to the mouth of her sex. She wasn’t damp. She was saturated.
She ran two fingers along the inside fold sliding through the evidence of her want and back up again. Her eyes closed tight, she watched his face as she touched herself. Slowly at first, she slid her fingers down and back, down and back. They were well coated before she paused at the cleft and ran them up and under until she hit the ball of nerves beneath the hood of flesh.
She saw his arousal rise as she turned her fingers against the hard knot in front of him just beyond his reach. She felt his growl crawl across her skin as she rotated her hips up and sunk two fingers deep into her sex. In her mind, she baited him.
“Do you like this Thorne? Is this what you want?”
She heard his breathy ‘yes’ as she culled thick honey from her core and ran it over the pulsing clit she’d exposed and irritated.
She bucked against her fingers putting pressure on the tight pearl that had its own heartbeat now. Several thrusts later, her hips had taken on their own rhythm of hard jerking. She wanted to slow down. She wanted to bait him more. Her body over-ruled her. It wanted to cum and it did. Hard and without a warning shot she convulsed against her own hand with Thorne still bound to the wall watching her in her mind.
Coming down from the orgasm, she desperately wanted the fantasy. She knew that was not what she’d get with him, not even close she was sure. She wanted it anyway. In her mind she mocked him. Big mistake.
As she’d taunted him with her wet, angry clit she’d hit it. Her body reacted. Her core was weeping openly as her hips arced up to meet her fingers. She flew apart after only a couple strokes, breathless and openly moaning. If only he were a switch. She thought she could sub for him if he’d sub for her. She didn’t need to ask to know the answer. The memory of the collar told her everything she needed to know. He was a Dom, period.
Damn shame really. She wanted to see him on that wall and she wanted to be the woman that put him there. She knew he’d fall on her like the man she’d seen, but it would be on his terms, not hers.
Maggie turned long slow circles against her clit the way he had on her sample night. She eased out of the pressure just as he had, allowing her body to melt away until she was limp. She felt like a blob of Jell-O.
She brought her hands up, intending to wipe them on the sheet and drift off. Tomorrow was laundry day after all. She stopped short and had a taste. Without him, she was not as tangy at all. Thick and sort of creamy, she wasn’t sweet. She wasn’t tart or salty either. She decided as she drifted off to sleep that she tasted the way the air did after the rain in the wheatgrass fields.
She didn’t think anything after that. Maggie fell deep into sleep. A sleep filled with dreams of the farm and days long gone. She woke to her mother calling it was time to get up. It was past time to get up actually. Looking at the clock, she was late.
‘What you see isn’t always what you get...’
Work was boring. The hours dragged on and even a loaded bag from one G. Eldeiress didn’t help. The bag only managed to refresh her mental replay of the night before. The mailbox did little to boost her mood either. A letter from the attorney was a notification that the settlement and request to dismiss had been filed but that Judge Ahrend was on vacation. They would have to wait for August fifth.
The slow blink on the answering machine was from Cynder. The show was changing, rehearsals would start Monday. If she wanted to switch up Maggie needed to be at rehearsal Monday or plan to stay a bookend. Maggie debated for all of a moment. She would stay put on the far left wing of the stage. Her long term goals did not include the words casino or showgirl. She’d bide her time and go to rehearsal Tuesday like normal. Trying to fit in extra tips and rehearsals were not part of the plan.
It was eight-thirty on Saturday night. Maggie had not a single plan. Changing from jeans into slacks, she grabbed the pink corset and headed for Custom Helotry. Last night’s adventure left a few things to be investigated.
Returning the corset was easy. She took a store credit knowing she’d use it sooner or later, likely sooner as she moved to the room of furniture. Ava winked at her over the shoulder of another customer as she cleared the doorway. Maggie was astonished to find her working late on a Saturday. She took a circuitous route around the room looking at everything. The pieces she wanted to see were on the far wall.
Finally reaching her destination, she stopped in front of the first large X, examining it without touching it so far.
“Got a new itch Mags? Ava’s voice pulled her from her mental replay.
Maggie turned just enough to make brief eye contact before returning her gaze to the first of the four pieces on the floor. “Not an itch so much as
an idea. How’s things Ava?”
“Things are good. I thought maybe you were checking on your suit before I noticed you wander over here.”
Mention of her suit pulled her from her visual inspection to face Ava.
“No, I hadn’t thought to check on that at all actually. I figured it was too soon.”
Ava’s eyes twinkled. “Normally yes four days would be too soon but as it’s not a super busy time for custom leather work in late July, I’d bet by the end of the week we should be close enough to check the fit before the final seams.”
Maggie’s heart skipped a beat. “Do you really think so?”
“Oh yeah, easily.”
Ava pointed, “So tell me the idea for the Saint Andrews.”
In for a penny and all, Maggie tried to keep her tone as flat and plain as Ava’s had been when she responded.
“Oh, I’m just debating if I want one, where I’d put one, you know...just ideas.”
“Gotcha. You have space issues.”
Maggie chuckled.
“Not just a space issue, an open loft.”
Ava’s eyes widened with understanding. “Ohhh. I get you now. I suppose a Crux Decussata may not be the centerpiece you really want for casual company.”
Maggie snorted out loud.
“Considering my uncle arrived unannounced a week ago and nearly broke the door down? No, it’s not. He’d have had kittens if he managed not to have a stroke.”
Ava grimaced and frowned.
“Well let’s not do that.” She paused for several minutes and looked up and down the line before continuing. “I can pull the specs on the pieces that are normally on the floor for you, or you can consider a custom piece to work with the space and storage options you have.”
Maggie listened but had no real idea how to make such a decision, even with specs.
“Do you have a suggestion one way or another?”