by Livia Grant
He gave the submissive a wink, the frowning Dom a smile, and held onto the suspension rig until both walked away in defeat.
“Sorry about that,” he apologized once Abby was close enough. “I was thinking a cross or cage might be good for us until I remembered this. I love the way my little subbies look wriggling around on this thing.” Her misgivings regarding the latest and last activity must have shown on her face, because as Newton bent to take his playbag from her, he did a double-take and stopped. “What’s the matter?”
Her stomach twisted, a sickly churning that made it difficult to pull her thoughts together. “I don’t like getting shocked.”
Newton tipped his head, studying her carefully. “Don’t like it as in you want to call it an evening?”
She looked away, uncomfortable with how much he might be able to read if she wasn’t careful.
“No,” Newton said, and damn it if he didn’t use that tone that made the knots in her stomach tighten that much more. It was an odd feeling, to both not and somehow like it when he did that. But not knowing how she felt made her uncomfortable too, and that sensation only intensified when he let go of the rigging to catch her chin, forcing her eyes to lock with his. “No, don’t look away. Talk to me.”
“I’m not calling anything,” she snapped, because that was what being uncomfortable did to her. All she felt now was defensive.
“Why not?” he countered evenly. “Does this have to do with the scene itself or with your perception of being weak again?”
Damn it. How could he read her this well? Abby didn’t answer. She folded her arms across her chest and kept her lips tight, preferring instead to pretend not to notice how that thread of suspicion in his gaze turned dark with warning.
“You can either talk to me,” he said, slipping half a step closer until he loomed over her, seeming in that moment so much bigger and physically more powerful that all the knots in her stomach turned somersaults. “Or I will call the scene. Whether you like it or not, part of my job is knowing ahead of time exactly what potential problems I might face with each and every submissive I play with. If this is going to trigger you—”
She stiffened when he caught her chin between firm and yet gentle fingers. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. Anybody looking at this can tell you’re not fine. I can tell it. Now, if this has something to do with what happened to you—”
Jerking her chin out of his hand, she spat, “Don’t! It doesn’t have anything to do with that. I… I just don’t like getting shocked, that’s all. I don’t like the way those wands look, or how they feel or the sound they make. I just don’t like it, and I’m allowed to not like it without it having anything to do with what happened to me!”
She was over-reacting and she knew it. Safe, sane, and consensual play meant he had a right to ask his questions and to expect her to answer openly and honestly, and she knew that too. But knowing that didn’t make her any less uncomfortable, nor did it make the sudden itch of trepidation crawling through her skin easier to ignore.
“All right,” Newton agreed. “If that’s how you feel, we won’t use the wand.”
That didn’t make her feel better. “We have to do the scene or we forfeit the game.”
“Oh, we’re going to do the scene,” he assured her. “We’re just not going to use the wand. Well, we will, but we won’t.”
“How—”
He held up a finger, shushing her. “Trust me. Big bad Daddy Dom has a plan.”
“Big bad Daddy Dom?” she echoed, nowhere near as upset as she wished she could be. As she had been, mere seconds before. “When do I get to play with him?”
“Ha ha,” he deadpanned. “Just for that, now you get to take all your clothes off.”
For two years now he’d seen her playing with other Doms, not just at the relatively new Black Light, but also at other local dungeons. For at least one and a half of those years, he’d seen her playing with her clothes off, so part of him had to know she didn’t mind being naked in a scene. And yet, there was a difference to be naked in front of anyone else and being naked in front of Newton. He saw more of her than any other Dom had in the past. As she began to pluck the ribbons that kept the front of her babydoll lingerie closed down the front, Abby felt a touch of heat bloom in her already tense belly. As she let the straps fall off her shoulders, the heat rose up through her chest to touch her face, burning her with the kiss of embarrassment. The all-seeing Newton must have noticed that too. Folding his arms across his chest, he watched her shrug out of her skimpy dress with a smile.
His gaze stayed with her until she’d folded the garment and set it aside. Then and only then, while she was looking back at him did he deliberately drop his gaze, boldly admiring first her breasts and then her neatly shaven pussy.
“Very nice,” he said, turning the heat of embarrassment up a notch within her.
Her pussy twitched, tiny tickling drops trickling down through the folds of her sex, dampness spreading to her thighs.
“All right.” Hanging from a length of thick black electrical cord near the wall was the button box that operated the suspension motor. Newton went to it, pushing his thumb against the top button to lower the hook to within her easy reach. “I remember ropes are a hard limit,” he said as he motioned for her to step under the hook. “I also know you don’t like to be confined, but how do you feel about bondage cuffs, handcuffs, Velcro, duct tape? Scotch tape?”
“I’ve been trying to get comfortable with leather restraints,” she admitted.
Pulling his bag over to the wall, where it would be out of the way, Newton hunkered down to unzip the top. He shifted aside a small plastic tub filled with cracker packets and mini candy bars, several lengths of coiled rope in a large Ziploc bag, a hard plastic grade-school pencil box that sounded as if it actually had pencils in it, and a Disney’s Frozen lap blanket before digging a hard black case out of the bottom of the playbag. He set that aside to unzip a side pocket, from which he plucked out another large Ziploc bag stuffed with different styles of restraints, lengths of chain and a whole assortment of clips kept neatly together like keys on a large silver o-ring.
“How do you feel about these?” he said, opening up his bag and handing her a pair of black leather restraints, linked together on the same clip and lined along the inside with hot pink faux fur. “Velcro tabs,” he told her while she examined them closely. “Quick release, very beginner stuff. All you have to do is twist your wrists or—since I intend to use the hook—let your weight hang, and you’ll pop right out.”
She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she had to answer. Nights like this were all about doing things outside of one’s comfort zones. “I’m okay with this,” she said, handing them back.
“Are you okay with ribbons instead of rope?” he asked. “In your hair to be specific?”
She blinked twice. “I think so,” she cautiously agreed.
“Hm.” His eyes narrowed again, but in a way she was beginning to recognize as a playful rather than an angry look. Digging back down into his suitcase, he pulled out a red velvet bag with a pull string top. He untied it. “How are you about this?”
When he pulled out the shiny metal anal hook, the whole of her insides tightened deliciously. A pulse of desire reverberated through her clit.
“I think I’m okay with that.” She immediately cleared her throat and hoped he didn’t notice how breathlessly she had made that admission. Amusement glittering in his dark eyes.
Yeah, he’d noticed.
He dug back into his bag, unzipping a side pocket to withdraw a wad of markers banded together with a red rubberband. “And these? They’re washable.”
What in the world was he planning? Her clit thrummed, her sex pulsing in arousal. Her lips needed moisture, but her mouth was too dry. She nodded. “And we’re not using the violet wand? How are we going to win if we don’t use the wand?”
“Don’t worry, we’ll be in compliance with t
he rules.” Newton stood, the markers in his hand. “I’m not going to ask if you trust me, Abby, but I want you to anyway and I’m willing to promise that I will do nothing tonight to betray that trust.”
Her thighs felt wet. Beads of moisture tickled her, caressing her vaginal lips like the tip of a hesitant tongue. Unable to speak, she nodded instead. Coming to her, Newton took the Velcro restraints from her hand and slipped them onto her wrists.
“Reach for the stars,” he told her, already extending her arms. Having already lowered the hook, it dangled right above her head and the short clip between her cuffs slipped easily over the end. “If for any reason you need to stop this scene—and I don’t care what it is—just give a yank and the cuffs will come off. No safeword required. No quitting or weakness involved.” He gave her a look. “Agreed?”
“Are you going to call the scene if I do?”
“Long enough to find out what the issue is. Depending on what it is, I might feel the scene needs to end, but that’s my decision and you will abide by it.” His look grew even sterner. “If you get uncomfortable for any reason, I expect you to do what I told you and get free. Do you hear the command in my voice?”
Abby stared up at him, his hands still holding onto her wrists, feeling absurdly, inexplicably safe.
Although he gave plenty of time for her respond, when she didn’t, he said, “Abby, if you choose to disobey what I just told you and I ever find out about it, and we ever play again, I don’t care if it’s six months or six years from now, you will be one very, very sorry little girl.”
He really was a Daddy Dom. Abby wasn’t a Little. She didn’t understand the fetish and didn’t have the patience for it, but in that moment, with him looking at her like that, Abby felt all of three feet tall and four years old.
“Yes, sir.” She nodded for good measure, and he stepped back to the button box to retract the hook. Afraid she might accidentally get out of the cuffs, she held onto the j-shaped curve with both hands, her arms slowly dragging upward until she was fully upright. A little higher and she would have been forced onto tiptoes, a little more slack and she could have unhooked her wrists herself.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
As much as she could be. She nodded, adjusting her stance so her feet were a little further apart and her weight was more balanced to endure whatever was coming next. What was he planning? He said he wouldn’t use the wand, but at some point he was going to have to in order for the scene to count. They’d be disqualified otherwise. Her heart rate picked up and so did her breathing, something she didn’t realize until Newton laid the flat of his hand upon her chest. The heat of his palm seared into the valley between her breasts. Her nipples tightened. That heat shot straight to her groin where it took up her heartbeat in rhythmic pulses of warmth and wanting.
“Relax,” he said, his tone slow sensuality incarnate. “Deep breaths. I want you to close your eyes until I say you can open them.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer and his expression never changed, but his hand did move, abandoning the valley for the rounded hill of her right breast. His fingertips circled her nipple and her whole body shivered when she felt the brush of his other hand skimming her hip, following the dip of her waist up over her ribs and along the rounded underside of her left breast. Her breath caught when he captured both nipples at once, plucking, gently stroking, before a joint pinch and twist brought Abby dancing up onto her tiptoes with a gasp and a mew that she quickly muffled behind tightly pressed lips.
“What did I tell you?” he asked, patience exaggerated.
Humming her pain, she closed her eyes and kept them closed. He released her nipples to burn and throb in the absence of his disciplinary touch.
“Good girl. Keep them closed.” His hands didn’t leave her. He kept at least one on her as he circled around to her back. The heated glide of his fingers touched everywhere—caressing across her bottom, smoothing up the ladder of her spine to her shoulders, combing through her medium-long hair, dragging it all back over her shoulders, drawing on her head until she had no choice but to let it lean all the way back while he let his hands run through strands, over and over again, massaging her scalp, combing out any incidental tangles he encountered. She almost forgot herself and opened her eyes when she heard him ask, “Assist me?”
Abby didn’t recognize the owner of the consenting grunt that followed, but details like that hardly seemed to matter when both his hands now combed through her hair, stroking, massaging, gathering all her hair together and twisting it back in a ponytail behind her. Someone must have handed him a hair tie, but she didn’t open her eyes to see who, she just enjoyed the sensation of his fingers. Newton’s fingers, of all men. Never in her wildest dreams would she have believed her body would respond to any temporary play partner the way it was to Newton.
Oh God… She felt the brush of three long ribbons spilling down the small of her back and into the crack of her buttocks. He tied them around her ponytail, weaving them into her hair as he braided the length all the way down to the very ends of the ribbons. She knew what was coming next. Her skin prickled, all the fine hairs standing eagerly, anxiously up on end as air bubbles burbled out of a mostly empty gel bottle being squeezed of the last of its contents. His hand came to rest over the divide of her buttocks, two fingers dipping in to smear the cool wet lubricant directly to her anus, and she tightened. An involuntary reaction first to the intent and then the cold.
“Have I told you yet that you have a fantastic ass?” Newton said as those magical fingers began to rub, tracing all around the puckered rim in preparation of entering her. “Nice and tight,” he said while her knees turned to rubber and her thighs began to tremble. “The kind of ass—” Abby caught her breath as he applied just enough gentle pressure to sink one fingertip inside her. “—that ought to be fucked often and hard. Isn’t that right?”
Did he want her to agree? Hell, did she want to agree? Anal wasn’t her most favorite thing, but she didn’t mind it. Particularly, she didn’t mind when it was used to make her feel the vulnerability and totality of her submission. She loved the mortification of it, of knowing her body held no secrets from her dominant partner. That her current dominant partner was Newton was a fact becoming less and less important the further this night wore on. Proof of that lay in her quivering belly, her molten sex, the niggling certainty that if Newton unzipped his pants to let his cock follow in the wake of his gently probing fingers, she would not object. Not beyond the sultry whisper of ‘no’ that her naughty side so thrilled to say, especially when it was ignored. Because no was not a safeword, it was just the word she would utter to make him re-enforce his grip and continue on, leaving her either to enjoy or endure the act from start to end.
The cold of the anal hook touched her back, and she sucked a startled breath. The room wasn’t that cold. Why did it feel like ice?
“Isn’t that right?” Newton repeated, his voice dipping low in warning.
“Y-yes,” she stammered, mortification searing her from the inside out while his finger withdrew. It was two that pieced her now, the longer middle fingers of his right hand easing in to fill her with the unexpected girth of a working man’s hand.
“Then what do we say?” he reminded, just when she thought her arousal and humiliation couldn’t possibly grow any hotter.
His fingers fucked her slowly—in and out, exploring her, touching everywhere. Her breath caught.
“Y-yes, sir, m-my ass needs to be fucked… o-often and… and hard.”
“Yes, it does. Yet another point on which we agree. Does it make you feel like a good girl or a bad girl when you take it in the ass for Daddy?”
“Both.” She shuddered as the cold of the hook moved down her back, the smooth hard ball at the end slipping into the crevice to follow the curve of her buttocks down and under. Her breath caught all over again when he took his fingers out of her.
“A bad girl who needs to be taught to be good?” Newt
on seductively asked, pressing the cold ball snug into place, letting her feel the size against her nethers. Pressing almost hard enough to penetrate her, just not quite hard enough. “Or a good girl being very naughty?”
Abby clung to the suspension rigging, shaking now, terrified if she accidentally let go the cuffs might break and he’d think she wanted to stop. She didn’t want this to stop. It was shocking how badly she wanted Newton to continue this, to keep touching and talking to her, whispering these naughty seductive things just behind her ear.
“Both,” she repeated. Confession might be good for the soul, but when followed by the icy end cap of an anal hook that pressed for entrance until she gave it, it brought Abby arching up onto her tiptoes with a gasp and a squeak.
“Take it,” he told her, inserting the hook to its fullest extent. “My cock is bigger than this. Be grateful I’m not going to make you take that.”
What tiny pinch of discomfort there was, was there and gone before he had it all the way in her. It was the cold she found difficult to relax for—the cold and the alien hardness of the J-shape as it settled flush in between her buttocks, pulling her even higher onto her toes as he dragged her head back by the ribbons woven into her braid. Tying it to the hook, he pulled it so snug that she could only find relief by leaning her head far back. Her neck couldn’t take that backward angle for long, but then neither could her pelvic girdle take the pressure of being split up the middle.
“Comfy?” he asked, knowing full well she couldn’t be and wouldn’t be, not until he allowed it once again. Her breasts swelled, heavy and aching with neglect. Chuckling, he patted her bottom just to watch the contortions of her body as she tried in vain to ease the pressure caused by her jostling. And the worst of it was, at any moment she could have let go. She’d never had someone give her that option before. She wasn’t sure she liked having it.
“Let’s begin.”
Her belly tightened and the hard, cool foreignness of the hook embedded in her bowels prodded that much deeper and pulled at the back of her scalp that much harder. She tipped her head back to ease the pressure. She tried not to open her eyes, but she couldn’t resist. His back was to her now as he hunkered down at his bag again. Unable to see through her arms or below her shoulders, she couldn’t tell what he was doing. She thought she heard the plastic rattle of the markers knocking together, but then he stretched his arm and she caught a glimpse of a long black cord smoothing out between his hands.