by Cynthia Dane
Henry’s hands groped both of her breasts. He loomed over her now, his threatening weight almost making good on a promise to crush her. Monica waited for a kiss, but one never came. Why would it? She was a doll, and a man like this would not kiss his doll.
Nevertheless, she almost spoke when he lifted her hips into the air, tied legs touching his biceps as he directed his hard cock toward her desperation.
Monica barely had time to collect what was left of her bearings before Henry Warren drove himself into her.
Relief claimed her. After who knew how long of sitting, waiting, and wishing to feel him like this again, Monica finally got her reward. Henry held himself inside her, letting her stretch and accommodate him before he began to gently roll his hips against her. Monica kept her lips sealed shut and her throat quiet. Well, the latter was easier said than done. Countless groan after groan bubbled in there, and every time Henry smoothly pulled out and pushed himself back into her she nearly wept.
He felt so good. Especially when he pushed her hips into the bed and drove into her, his cock stretching her wide but meeting no resistance. Not after a morning of touching herself, feeling the plug inside of her, and having those clamps constantly stimulate her nipples.
It was sensory overload. Henry held her hip with one hand and her shoulder with the other, keeping her still and steady as he thrust into her over and over, his breath becoming ragged and his motions more erratic. The man swelled within her, but kept his thrusts even – long, purposeful, and deep enough to drive Monica mad. Yet she still did not speak, and she managed to keep her louder moans within her, channeling them toward her loins, which were on the receiving end of Henry’s pursuit for pleasure.
He didn’t say a word to her, not that he had to. His hand slipped from her shoulder and to her breast, tugging on the clamp before smacking and grabbing her flesh. Monica lifted her hips involuntarily. Her Dom’s cock filled her as much as it could.
She was quickly slipping. Thighs wet and stuffed to her core, Monica concentrated on the sensation of Henry thrusting in and out of her, his thrusts increasing in speed and intensity.
Monica could have held out longer if it weren’t for the angle at which he entered her now. Between gravity and his own skill, Henry hit her where it counted, and a giant spark of pleasure tore her apart.
“Mmf!” She couldn’t help it. Orgasm was breaking her, the one that had built up inside of her since the last time he pleased her like this. A wave of relief and pleasure washed over her warm skin and settled in her stomach, now held down by both of Henry’s hands. The clamps clinked as her breasts bounced before his eager eyes; the plug in her ass seemed to grow in size as her muscles contracted around it; the gag in her mouth drowned in saliva and from the groans erupting from her chest. Most of all, she relished in that full and perfect feeling of her Dom continuing to fuck her at the same rhythm even after she began to hold onto him with the brute strength of her orgasm.
Not for long. An excited grunt hit Monica’s ears, and the next thing she knew she was in the middle of her orgasm when Henry began his. He filled her with more than his cock. The sheer amount of heat expanding inside of her told Monica that Henry was more than satisfied with her performance. Even though they did not speak to or kiss one another, they shared an elation that only a well synced Dom and sub could have.
Henry slowed his movements before pulling out of her. Instantly his seed spilled out, running down her skin and covering the flared base of her plug. Henry removed it without a second thought – another relieving contraction sent some of his seed into her opened hole.
The clamps came off one after the other. Henry bent down and blew against her nipples before gently rolling across them with his tongue, keeping them hard but easing any swelling. This time Monica let a moan escape her. When her arms and legs were released from their binds, she carefully moved them, feeling the tension evaporate as Henry helped her change position so her joints would not be hurt.
Finally, the blindfold came off. Then the gag in her mouth.
She was halfway onto her stomach by now, legs closed but seed still easing out of her body. Henry massaged her side before curling up behind her and wrapping a strong arm around her midsection. The lips on her neck only made Monica sigh.
“By the way, you can speak now.”
She didn’t want to. She wanted to sleep. Not even when Henry began covering her sore spots in cream and tender touches did she open her mouth to say anything.
“Did you enjoy that?”
His leg was hooked beneath hers. Monica rolled back into his embrace, relishing in the easy way he loved on her. Why does this man want me so much? Was it because she was such a good sub? Or was there something else about her that he admired and wanted to have? Men were such a mystery to her sometimes. “I did.” Her voice was hoarse from disuse.
“I thought about you until I couldn’t stand it anymore. Knowing that you were up here waiting for me like this… all I could think about was taking you. And then to see the way your body begged for it when I got here… you’re destroying me, Monica. You don’t know how much power you have.”
He kissed her ear and fingered her slit. Monica collapsed in exhaustion, her only request that he keep doing that and then take a nap with her. Henry would not commit to anything until Monica started to orgasm once more, his fingers inside of her and teasing her ass as well.
“My princess,” he whispered into her ear before sucking the side of her breast. Monica was still coming, this second orgasm taking much longer to accomplish than the first. Her body shook in fatigue but would not give up the pleasure she felt. “There’s still so much I want to do to you. I haven’t seen your limits yet. I want to find them and shatter them.”
He gave one final thrust of his fingers and made her quiver around them, her arousal drenching his skin in her inability to care anymore. You’re already pushing my limits, Henry. His wet fingers rubbed the inside of her thighs as he mentioned how swollen and wet her nether lips were. You don’t know that you are, but it’s happening. Monica clung to him the moment he embraced her, a kiss the size of her uncertainty blossoming between them.
Chapter 5
The Dark Hour
“Of course I’ve been here before,” Monica said later that night. “What, you think I was never aware of the most exclusive BDSM club in America?”
“I never said you weren’t aware of it.” Henry took her by the arm and led her through the front entrance of the club, a spacious, dark abode deep in the center of the local city. “I merely asked if you had been here before. There’s a difference.”
They approached the doorman, a fellow dressed in a designer suit but liable to bash someone’s head in if they looked at him wrong. Monica flashed him a sweet smile while Henry pulled out his ID and shared his name. The doorman checked it on a member list and showed them through.
“And I told you, I’ve been here before.” Monica let Henry remove her coat and pass it on to the girl behind a counter. She wore a gold, glittery mask and a smile the size of the building.
“Hello, Mr. Warren,” she said with a hint of flirtation in her voice. “And who is the lovely lady with you?” The girl handed him a claim check for the coats.
Henry put it in his wallet. “Don’t tell me you don’t know Monica Graham. She says she’s been here before.”
The girl stepped back from her window, her blond hair swishing in the dim light. “I’ve heard of you, ma’am. Forgive me. I didn’t start working here until a few months ago.”
They both returned her smile. Henry put a tight hand around Monica’s shoulder and directed her toward the hallway leading to the main sitting area. Not that they would deign to sit so low in one of the country’s most private members-only club.
Monica had been here. The Dark Hour. There were elite BDSM clubs all over the world, but this was the Western Hemisphere’s #1 abode. Any man – or woman – who had the financial means and the love f
or the relationship between a Dom and sub came here. Just like they would visit Monica’s Château up in the rural hills, they would make some time to check out The Dark Hour. Men in expensive suits and smoking cigars; women in flashy dresses and collars; both crawling on the floor and wielding whips. A center stage bathed in red and blue lights boasted the occasional show and demonstrations. Monica saw on the calendar of events that they recently had a shibari demonstration. I should find out who did it and hire them to tutor my girls. Always the business-minded woman.
Henry apparently had a membership important enough to give him a VIP table in the corner upstairs. Monica sat next to the railing and looked down at the stage, all while Henry flagged down a scantily clad server to order them drinks.
“What will you have?” he asked. “I’m getting a gin and tonic.”
Monica batted her eyelashes at him. “Whatever you want to get me, Mr. Warren.”
He looked at her for a few seconds, completely ignoring the server in favor of sharing a smirk with his girlfriend. “Get the lady a Manhattan. Put them both on my tab.”
When the server left, he turned to Monica and wrapped his arm around the back of her chair. “Did I guess right? You seem like a woman who loves hard liquor and some fun.”
“You haven’t seen me with a good amount of hard liquor yet. I’m pretty giggly.”
“Hang on. Let me get that girl. I’ll load you up with Manhattans.”
The drink was perfect. Amazing that he knew I like vermouth. A lucky guess, really. Monica liked most liquor, so that wasn’t an issue. She even dared to ask to taste his gin and tonic mere seconds after enjoying the first sip of her Manhattan. Henry slid his glass toward her and stole her Manhattan. Unlike her, he did not enjoy both.
Their intent coming to The Dark Hour that night was not to merely taste expensive drinks. They could do that back at Henry’s mansion. Instead, Henry had suggested the club in town for “the sheer thrill of it.” Although they had spent most of the morning and early afternoon playing on their own, Henry thought they might like to unwind by watching others and being around like-minded people.
Monica knew his real motive. He wants to show me off. This was their first time being seen together in public, let alone sitting together so intimately. I haven’t been here since… The last time she came to The Dark Hour was when Jackson had it in his mind to watch other people whip each other for a change. Back then, he always made such a show of arriving and spoiling others. He liked to flaunt his wealth. That was something often associated with men of new money, but Jackson, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, fell into those same traps… wanting to be loved for his money, respected… it always bothered Monica to a point, but she could overlook it. For the most part.
The first show that evening was a Domme and her male sub. Just like being back at the Château. In fact, the woman in leather stepping onto the stage with a young man on a leash looked a lot like the Judith whom Monica stole from this establishment back when she opened her Château. “How would you like to make more money, set your own schedule, and have a fabulous place to live?” The woman down there wasn’t Judith, but if Monica was thinking about hiring more girls, this wasn’t a bad place to poach from. I wonder who that lady down there is. First, Monica wanted to see how good she was.
So did Henry, as evident when he leaned over Monica to get a gander at the stage.
The Domme made her sub kneel on the floor, his arms tied behind his back and his head bowed. She told him to do something, and when he did not immediately obey, he received a gentle lash on the bare back.
“Oh boy.” Henry leaned his elbow on the table. “There’s a man with fortitude. I never cared for being whipped.”
“You tried it?” That only surprised Monica because Doms almost never flipped the script. “You don’t strike me as the type who wants to be a sub. Ever.”
“You only say that because I’m a man.” Henry curled his fingers on her arm and spoke directly into her ear. “A long time ago I had it in my mind to try many tastes. At this point in my life I know what I like. Everyone reaches that point in different ways.”
“Color me surprised that you would rather whip than be whipped, as you put it when we first met.”
Henry bit her ear as the man moaned below. “That was a good day.”
“Well look who finally showed his face around here after God knows how long.” A curt voice interrupted their moment of affection, forcing Henry to back off his date and turn around. “Henry Warren, you ridiculous shit.”
To the sounds of a whip cracking in the air, both Henry and Monica stared up at a man and his date. The man wasn’t very tall, but he wore a slick suit and clean facial hair that suggested he came from as many means as Henry, if not more. His date, on the other hand, was a svelte blond woman wearing a see-through brown dress that did not hide a single thing, including her breasts and thighs that were both pale and pink even under those lights. She wore a diamond-studded choker around her throat. A baby sub. Cute. They always went with the demure – but expensive – collars.
“James Merange.” Henry stood up and shook the man’s hand before settling back into his seat. Without invitation, both man and woman slipped into the chairs on the other side of the table. “And this must be the lovely Gwen I’ve heard so much about.”
The blond woman blushed. Flattery always worked, even if a girl had no problems walking around in a public place with her nipples showing through her outfit. “You flatter me, Mr. Warren.”
Monica bristled. Great. Jealousy already? That didn’t take long. When she lived with Jackson she didn’t get jealous of other women deferring to him. But she didn’t have a special name for that man. “Mr. Warren” was something Monica already associated with her new romance. She took a drink before anyone could see her face.
“Nonsense. James talks about you all the time.” Once the other two were settled in and had ordered drinks, Henry turned to Monica. “Have you been introduced to Mr. Merange before?” The implication was not lost to Monica. He wants to know if he’s been to the Château. What a sneaky man.
Monica reached across the table and shook the other man’s hand. “I think we may have met a few years ago. At a fundraiser.” That was always a safe answer in these circles.
The man down on the stage cried out in pain. Nobody at the table flinched. “Monica Graham, is it?” James sat back in his seat, arms crossed and eyes never leaving Monica’s face. “Boy, I certainly know you. Who doesn’t around these parts?”
Gwen glanced at him. “Is that so?”
“Ms. Graham here runs that house of ill repute up in the hills, dear.” James cleared his throat. “Not that I’ve ever been there, mind you.” He then looked at Monica again. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
“Wait, the BDSM house?”
“I suppose you could call it that,” Monica said.
“Oh, I know you! Didn’t you used to date Jackson Lyle?”
The table fell silent. Monica maintained her poker face but had to look toward Henry before having the strength to answer. “Once upon a time, yes.”
The pride Gwen boasted for being right quickly fell off her countenance. “Sorry…”
While James shifted uncomfortably, Monica smiled. “Nothing to be sorry about. I’m hardly doing poorly for myself.”
“I’ll say.” James perked back up and pointed to Henry. “Didn’t think I’d see you with such a classy lady in a place like this, Henry. Look at you! Becoming a regular Don Juan. Although it’s kind of funny, isn’t it?”
Henry was not smiling. “What’s funny, James?”
The server returned with drinks for James and Gwen, as well as refills for the original couple at the table. Monica snatched her fresh Manhattan and nursed it while the two men had a battle of secrets across the table. Business bullshit. Back at the Château she would be taking notes. On a date with her Dom? She was under no obligation to listen to a thi
ng – unless Henry told her to, of course.
“Oh, you know.” James patted Gwen’s thigh. “Just some things I’ve heard on the grapevine.”
“I’d ask what those are,” Henry stirred his drink with the thin straw he was given. “but I don’t think I want to know. Not tonight.”
“Of course.” The knowing smile on James’s face did not inspire any confidence at the table. All Monica knew was that Henry did not look like he was enjoying himself any longer. Whatever went on in his brain right now had nothing to do with her, however. “So how did you two meet, exactly? I’d love to know.”