Black Light: Roulette Rematch (Black Light Series Book 20)

by Livia Grant

“Sorry,” she pants, which is cute because it’s not punishment. “I mean…” She shuts up because, of course, there’s nothing for her to say.

  I spank her with the slapper, aiming where she sits, getting both cheeks in a single swat. She squeezes her little ass tight. I speed up, spanking hard and fast, holding her with a firm arm around the waist as she rolls and wriggles. She lets out little cries but no protest. I know it hurts. This level of spanking might be a warm-up to a practiced pain-slut, but I’m fairly certain Kayla’s ass has been untried. In all ways. Considering how much wriggling and panting she’s doing I have a feeling she’s working hard not to lose it. Hell, she almost cried from a few smacks of my palm earlier.

  It’s all right. I plan to keep her face-down for a while. She won’t have to keep it together for me or anyone else. I figure the submissive position is ripe for humiliation play. It’s too bad we had to leave electronics in the locker room because after her spanking would be the perfect time to make a phone call and keep her waiting face-down like nothing more than a plaything.

  Which she is.

  I stop when I sense her starting to panic, judging by the way she keeps lifting her head. I don’t want her crying red or yellow. I want her to stay surrendered to me.

  I dip my fingers between her legs. She’s so wet that I sink right into her heat, her flesh plumped open and welcoming. I pump them a few times then find her anus with my thumb.

  She squeezes her ass tighter, her thighs going rigid on the couch.

  I make a scolding sound. “No, blossom. You’ll take me here. You’ll take me anywhere I demand. No fisting, though. I remember your hard limits.”

  She pants and seems to work to convince her muscles to relax. First one buttcheek then the other soften. I stroke over her clit to reward her. She humps my lap prettily. The scent of her arousal hits me like an intoxicating perfume.

  Damn, this girl.

  I don’t want my dick this hard for her. She’s too perfect and unpracticed for the things I want to do to her. Which just makes me even more annoyed with her.

  I toy with her, stroking in and out, rubbing her clit, massaging her anus but not penetrating yet. I take my time. I’m in no hurry to get her off. Even though she can’t see it, I play the part, acting bored and looking around the lounge. I spy Valdemar parading his submissive through the main club in baby girl clothing. He looks absolutely delighted with himself. It occurs to me that being a daddy dom might suit him better than sadism.

  Someone calls red not far from us. There’s a small commotion as the dungeon monitors move in to cut a panicked, blindfolded, and headphone-wearing submissive free of plastic wrap on a padded tabletop.

  Kayla rolls on my lap, getting excited from the steady stroking. She lets out a wanton moan. The corner of my lips ticks up despite myself. I wish she wasn’t so fucking cute.

  Cute isn’t for me.

  But it’s hard to keep hating on this one. She’s adorable.

  I find Sasha and Maxim sitting on a couch in the main play area. And—holy fuck—Sasha is down on her knees giving Maxim what looks like the world’s best blowjob.

  Hot.

  I’m both fascinated and repulsed to see my suitemates having sex. I have to give points to Sasha who often comes off as a spoiled brat. Right now, she looks every bit as submissive as the rest of the bottoms here, and it makes me happy to see Maxim treated like a king. I mean, he’s happy as fuck with her, so I figured their relationship had to be balanced on some level, and now I see where. Go, Sasha.

  Get it, Max.

  My dick gets harder. Soon, I’ll put my submissive on her knees and demand the same treatment.

  She moans again.

  Time to give her something more. I rummage in my duffel bag for the butt plugs. Assuming she’s an anal virgin, I unpackage the smallest one to start with. I slap Kayla’s ass a few times to distract her before removing my touch to use both hands and prepare the plug with ample lube.

  “Ready for your ass-fucking, blossom?”

  Her head comes up again, startled. Her cute buttcheeks squeeze together. “Um…”

  “It was a rhetorical question. Your answer should always be yes.”

  Kayla

  I twist to look over my shoulder at Pavel, trying not to freak the fuck out.

  “You can take it.” He shows me a slender stainless-steel plug, which he’s coating with lubricant. “It’s small, like you.”

  I can take it.

  I can take it.

  I can take it.

  I force myself to exhale and put my head back down. It’s probably no worse than when my gyno did a quick rectal exam.

  Pavel taps my buttcheek. “Open.”

  Huh? I can’t figure out what he means until I realize I’m still clenching the proverbial quarter between my buttcheeks.

  That’s dancer-speak. I grew up taking ballet, tap, and jazz for my theater career, and my childhood ballet teacher used to tell us to clench a quarter between our buttcheeks. I probably have the tightest pelvic floor in the universe.

  Guess that changes now.

  It’s hard to make the powerful muscles relax, but eventually, I soften both cheeks.

  “Better,” Pavel observes. It’s not quite praise. He’s pretty damn stingy with the praise, if you ask me.

  I would do just about anything for a good girl right now.

  He strokes between my legs again, where I’m swollen and needy as hell. I’m starting to feel feverish and drunk with desperation.

  “Reach back and hold your cheeks open for me,” he commands.

  Oh lordy. Really? Well, I guess this is supposed to be humiliating. He’s working the heck out of that angle.

  I reach back—ugh! It’s so embarrassing!—and part my buttcheeks for him, opening myself up for his plunder.

  “Good girl.”

  The words rush into me like a soothing balm. I finally got a good girl. Thank you, baby Jesus. This guy is hard to please.

  I hollow my lower back and arch my ass up to him, even more eager for his praise now.

  “That’s it.” He touches my anus with the bulbous end of the plug. It feels cool and hard.

  I flinch then force myself to relax again.

  He applies pressure. I resist.

  “Open, Kayla.” It’s a stern admonishment, and the fact that he used my real name—not Kiki or blossom, his pet name for me—makes me feel all the more chastised.

  I don’t know how to open or even what he means, but just thinking about it seems to do the trick because I start to relax, and the moment I do, he presses the tip inside me. I yelp in surprise. It doesn’t hurt, but it feels wrong for sure. Wrong in a way-too-intimate and dirty way. I mean, I didn’t prepare for this. Are you supposed to douche first? Or what is it for anal—an enema?

  Eek!

  Pavel eases the plug forward, not insisting—more suggesting. The problem is, the plug gets wider as it goes, so it starts to stretch me.

  “Ooh, ow!” I wince and fret, my ankles crossing restlessly.

  “Open, Kayla.”

  “I don’t know h—ow.” He seats the plug fully, and the pain of the stretch eases. Now I just feel embarrassingly full—like I have to poop.

  He twists and pumps the plug.

  Oh.

  Oh.

  That’s erotic.

  Definitely some pleasure there along with the embarrassment. But more pleasure. I start to pant, my pussy clenching on nothing. An extremely needy sound comes from my lips, and then I come, anus tightening around the plug, my empty channel pulsing and quivering.

  Pavel’s fingers burrow into my hair, and he lifts my head with it. “Did you just come without permission?” He sounds pissed.

  My pussy clenches again. “Oh my God!” I pant. My brain is scrambled from the orgasm. I’m hot and twitchy and… gawd. “I’m sorry, I—”

  “I didn’t say you could come.”

  “You didn’t say I couldn’t come,” I offer hopefully.

  “
Aw, blossom. I think you know better than that.” He releases my hair. I expect a harsh spanking, but instead his hand rests lightly on my ass. He gives it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t you?” His accent is thick, his voice guttural and deep.

  “Yes, Master,” I murmur.

  “Back on your knees,” he commands. “And take your panties off first.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  He helps me to stand. I slip the panties down off my legs and then kneel on the industrial carpet at his feet.

  He unbuttons his pants and slides forward on his seat, parting his knees. I lick my lips. Finally, something I know how to do.

  “Show me you’re sorry, princess.” He frees his erection and fists it, then catches the back of my head and pulls me forward.

  I’ve never been forced onto a cock before, and it strikes me as impatient and rude, but then, that’s probably all part of the game. I’m not the one in charge, and giving head is usually one of those acts where the giver has the power. He’s making sure I don’t have it.

  He feeds his length between my lips, pulling my hair back from my face and fisting it behind my head. “Suck it good, blossom.”

  I make a sound—my version of ‘I will’ with my mouth full. I suck hard enough to hollow out my cheeks and run my tongue along the underside of his manhood. His dick is long and thick and heavy with need.

  “Tap my leg once for yellow, twice for red if you need to,” he instructs.

  I blink to show I understand.

  So maybe I don’t know what to do other than let him do it all because he controls the movement of my head, yanking it forward and pulling me back by my hair. He chokes me, the tip of his cock bumping the back of my throat. He’s rough and dominant, turning my head to the side to change the angle, then straightening me up again.

  It’s a little scary. Sometimes when I gag I get scared I won’t be able to breathe, but I always can. After a little while, I start to trust that he’s not going to choke me to death with his cock, even if he wants me to think he is.

  “Put your fingers in your pussy,” he orders.

  It takes a few beats for the words to register. I’m just working hard to surrender to his control, to suppress my gag reflex. I bring my hand between my legs. My pussy is unbelievably wet—wetter than I’ve ever been. Two of my fingers sink in immediately. I moan around his length.

  “That’s it, blossom. Now I want you to come. Can you make yourself orgasm with my dick in your mouth?” He makes it sound like a challenge. Like something he doubts I can achieve, which makes me desperate to prove him wrong.

  It won’t be hard. I’m already beyond turned on. The plug in my ass provides constant stimulation, and the eroticism of my position—of the whole scene—is already driving me crazy. I rub my fingers inside myself, even though that’s not what I usually do when I masturbate. But then, I’m not usually so wet and swollen then. I use the heel of my hand to push against my clit, rubbing and mashing it as I stroke with my fingers.

  My eyes start to roll back in my head, my lashes fluttering. Pavel unclamps one of my nipples. I can’t focus on anything at all—it’s enough just to drag in each ragged breath through my nose while I suck as hard as I know how and pleasure myself. Pavel unclamps the other one.

  I jerk as I come, my muscles seizing. I think I might’ve cried out or attempted to. My nipples scream with fire as the blood rushes back into them. It heightens my orgasm, which goes on and on, fresh waves coming every time I rub my clit again.

  Pavel is generous enough to pause until I finish. He strokes my cheek with his thumb before he resumes plunging into my mouth even more roughly. “That’s it, blossom. Good girl,” he praises although his movements are anything but rewarding. I can hear the rasp of his breath, and it sounds rough and ragged. He’s on the brink, now too.

  Fresh pleasure pours through me knowing I’ve turned him on. That I’m part of his orgasm. “I’m going to come now, Kayla. You want me to come down your throat or all over those pretty little tits of yours? Tap once for throat, twice for tits.”

  I tap once. Sasha is the one who coached me into swallowing back in college, and I’m damn proud of my ability. Sue me if I want to show off a little. Lord knows, not much impresses this guy.

  He utters something in Russian that sounds like a curse, banging the back of my throat with rough thrusts until he grips my hair tight and holds me against him and comes.

  I swallow and swallow, blinking back the water from my eyes.

  “That’s it. Good girl.”

  Another good girl. I’m soaring.

  “Clean it up,” he orders, which I’m already doing. He tucks his cock back away and zips his pants. “Come here,” he beckons.

  Does he want me on his lap? That doesn’t seem like him. Maybe over his lap? Dang it, if only I knew. I wobble to my feet, the blood rushing back into my lower legs.

  He catches my elbow to support me then spins my hips until I face away from him and pulls me onto his lap. “Come here, little fuck-doll. That was so hot.” His breath is warm at my ear. I glory in his praise, even though tonight was supposed to be about pleasing myself.

  I did, though. I’m more satisfied than I’ve ever been in my life.

  I squirm on his lap, the butt plug jostling and moving inside me.

  “Legs wide, princess.” He picks up my legs and tosses them over the outside of his knees, so I’m spread open. I’m wearing nothing but my fishnet thigh highs, heels and a butt plug, so he’s just presented my chacha for the entire room to see, but I can’t find it in me to mind.

  He grips my right breast, massaging it roughly. Possessively. He bites my shoulder. His other hand strokes between my legs. Despite just orgasming, I’m so ready to go again. In fact, the way it feels now, it will never be enough. I’m turned on enough to go all night and still not be satisfied.

  Pavel seems to know that because he fucks me with two fingers, then three, all the while nibbling at my neck and owning my breast and nipple.

  Jesus.

  It’s incredible. I feel incredible—sexy and powerful. Beautiful. Hedonistic.

  Apparently, there’s nothing for me to do but receive, so I let my head drop backward over his shoulder, my breasts angled toward the ceiling as he takes care of my needs.

  I don’t realize at first that I’m moaning. Loud moans—wanton, embarrassing moans. “Oh God!” I clamp both hands over my mouth to shut myself up.

  “No.” Pavel sounds as frantic as I feel. “Let me hear you.”

  “Oh,” I moan.

  He fucks me faster with his fingers. My butt clenches around the plug, and every time it does it sends me closer to release.

  “Oh, God.” I remember to ask permission. “Please, Master—may I come?”

  “No.” He keeps moving his fingers, making me crazy.

  Wait… what?

  I’m already mostly out of my mind, and now my brain scrambles completely. I need to come.

  “P-please?” My teeth chatter. I seriously might die if he doesn’t let me come, and yet, disobeying him is not an option.

  “Please, Pavel.”

  “I like the way you beg.” He sounds as worked up as I am. His fingers fly, driving me to the brink of insanity.

  “I have to. Oh, God, I have to.” I squirm all over his lap, on the brink of both ecstasy and death.

  He says nothing, just bites my neck and fucks me with a cone formed by his fingers.

  Finally, when I’m sure I’m going to die, he says, “Come, blossom.” He murmurs the words right beside my ear. They skip my brain and go straight to my dripping wet pussy, and I come with a scream. I wriggle and ride his fingers, clamping my own over the tops of his to push him deeper.

  “Oh,” I pant, overwhelmed.

  Pavel eases his fingers out and brings them to his lips, sucking my juices.

  And that’s when I realize we have an audience. Kind of a big audience. They are murmuring encouraging things. I sit up, stiffening.

  I don�
��t think Pavel had noticed before because he curses in Russian.

  Chapter 4

  Pavel

  I want to punch the teeth out of every man who just saw Kayla come. And there’s a lot of them. A whole ring of pridurki standing in a semi-circling ogling my porn-star beautiful partner. I want to smash their noses over my knee. Clap their ears. Slam them to the floor by their necks.

  It’s not like me—I’m not possessive of women. I’m the opposite—that’s the reason I came to an event like this. I prefer pairings with no meaning and no ownership.

  But some part of me I don’t recognize isn’t on board with that.

  Blyat. I lift Kayla to stand. “Pick up your top and give it to me,” I order.

  She leans forward to snatch up her bustier. I pull her back to my lap and put it on for her, tightening the laces and tying them. I leave the plug in her, only because I don’t want everyone watching me take it out.

  Yeah, it would be humiliating for her—the name of this scene.

  But I don’t give a fuck.

  I’m not doing it.

  “Put your panties back on, blossom,” I murmur to Kayla. We’re suddenly on the same team from my point of view. I’m protecting her from the gawking assholes out there.

  Part of me wants to stop and examine that—because I’m sure I’m fucking this up somehow. Forgetting how to dominate her the way I’m supposed to, but I shove the thoughts away.

  Kayla obeys and slips on the panties. The plug doesn’t show through the heart-shaped cutout in the back of her panties. I give it a pat to show my ownership and lead her back toward the theater. She toddles on her heels. I saw her rocking them when she arrived, so I’m guessing it’s because that orgasm just blew her mind. Her legs are probably made of rubber right now. Hell, I’ve got a little of that going on myself.

  I lead her to the bar and order two bottles of water and a dish of nuts. I figure she needs to recharge if we’re going to make it two more rounds. We both do.

  I pull out a barstool for her and help her onto it, loving the ginger way she sits to accommodate the plug. She drinks down half her water at once and takes a big handful of nuts.