I settled on a black leather miniskirt, cut like a school girl uniform skirt, with white thigh highs that laced up the back like a corset. On top, a white Oxford shirt, open to just past my plaid striped demi-cup bra. My hair was full and loose, my makeup very light, no jewelry. My shoes were stacked heels in the style of saddle shoes. The overall effect was innocence perverted.
I smiled at myself in the mirror while I got ready, feeling like I looked like someone’s dirty fantasy. Smiled wider when I realized it was my own.
Chapter Thirty-One
Xander
Cobra Starship, Good Girls Go Bad
There was a warm spell and the air was brisk but not outright cold. I drove to her building, my mind racing with thoughts of her that tumbled over each other, mixed up with a low level dread I couldn’t shake.
She stepped out of her entrance as I parked in front of her building. I saw her but didn’t really see her, my mind still focusing on what was wrong. Not looking at what was right, right in front of me. I got out of the car and walked around the hood, intentionally clearing my mind to be fully present with her.
Any thoughts that weren’t completely cleared disappeared in a heartbeat when I looked up at her. Oh fuck.
She wore a school girl outfit, white thigh high tights up to a little leather miniskirt, to a shirt that looked like it could have been her dad’s, tied around her waist and unbuttoned, with a peek-a-boo plaid bra. She even had the shoes right.
Oh goddamn it.
I stumbled a bit, my feet not working right, because all the blood in my body was screaming into my cock. She just looked like a little private school rich girl who was mad at her parents and out to make some bad decisions. I could be as bad as she needed me to be.
Mine, fucking mine, minemineminemineminemine.
I grabbed as I reached her, and held her neck still, tilting her head just right. I lowered my mouth to her and claimed her again. Just like earlier. This is mine, goddammit. It was primitive. I wanted to brand her, mark her, put a sign on her so everyone knew who she belonged to. I wanted to lock her in my apartment and never let her out again—just keep her there, tied up and waiting for me. I wanted to put a baby in her. I wanted her on a cellular level.
All the insanity of the last week, all my weird insecurities, my fucked up past… All of it burned away in my mind and there was only her and the shape of her ass under my hand, the soft press of her body against mine. Her yielding. And it was all that mattered.
I breathed against her hair for a moment, savoring the scent of her. And newly clean of mind, I let my muscles flex, felt my masculinity wash over me. I felt my need to control her. I wanted to look in her eyes and see it in them, see that she thought I was all-powerful.
I stepped back from her and took a slower look at her. A slow smile spread over my lips. Point to you, little girl. You want to push me? Okay. My cock swelled, thinking of her pushing me. My smile grew, earlier worries seeming unfounded now.
“I love this, but…little girl, it makes me want to tear it off you. I want to get your knees all dirty. Let’s go.” I pulled her along with me to the car.
Jason and Christy were already at the bar and dropped their jaws, faces slack with shock when we walked in. As we passed them, Christy mumbled something and they started laughing. We stopped to grab a drink from Frank, who tried so hard not to react to her attire that I couldn’t even get mad at him that he couldn’t stop himself from glancing down to her tits every third word.
The early crowd of blue collar regulars lined the walk to our booth. Fuck, I might murder someone tonight. I kept a hand on her, but everyone knew anyway. Wasn’t a bad idea to make sure there was no mistake.
We spent some time savoring our drinks, talking, trying to ignore the fucking blatantly sexual elephant in the room. Christy and Jason sat with us for a bit, not commenting on her clothes, but the mirth never left their eyes. Jason and I got up for another round and, when I looked back at Leda and Christy, they were laughing like they had been friends forever. And I wanted this forever, hanging with my best friends, my sexy-ass girl there tucked under my arm. I smiled, feeling better than I had all week.
“There it is,” Jason said, nudging my shoulder. “A smile.”
I smiled wider at him. “Yeah. Here I was thinking she wouldn’t push me and this is what I get.” I laughed. “Dude, she is so fucking perfect.”
“Why do you think she did it?”
“I have an idea. I think I might have left her a little frustrated this morning.” I chuckled a bit more, thinking I was going to love denying her orgasms, if this is what happened when I did.
As we walked back with the drinks, the girls erupted in laughter again. Jason sat next to Christy, pushing against her. “What are you two laughing about?”
She answered, “Well, I was laughing at how fucked these two are over each other. The funny thing is that Leda knows how fucked she is, but Xander, I don’t think you really grasp it yet.”
Leda flushed red, and I wondered how Christy could say I didn’t know after the conversations of the last week.
Either way, I smiled. “I think I have an idea.”
* * * *
When we got to the Window, Leda’s eyes shone with excitement and she didn’t notice the initial looks of speculation or the way I reacted to each predatory gaze in her direction. I guided her up the stairs to the loft, away from the majority of the crowd. Those people could fuck themselves.
Leda and I snuggled into a couch, across from Christy and Jason, who were doing the same. I leaned back and took some slow breaths. Leda sat next to me quietly. After a few seconds though, we turned toward each other…and said nothing. It was awkward, and I groped around for something to say, but was cut off by Jason’s loud crack of laughter.
I looked toward him as he leaned over to me, yelling, “That’s just rude, man!” He kept laughing and rested back with Christy, who was wiping a tear out of her eye, a laugh still on her lips. I looked at them, thinking what the fuck?
But Leda leaned into me, asking, “Did you ever get in touch with Mistress Seraphim? Are we meeting up with them?” She looked anxious.
I nodded at her, not offering comfort or reassurance at first. “Not till later though.” I took a breath and decided that it was my last night with her before break—fuck being the cold-ass Dom the whole time. “Come here, little girl.”
She snuggled into my side, under my arm, and I sighed contentedly. I just let myself enjoy her presence, the warm pressure of her against my side, the sweet look of fear mixed with excitement when she spoke to me.
I wanted to feel her skin under my fingers and dropped my hand to trace the bared skin of her back, between her shirt and skirt. She came alert, tension building her muscles, breath coming deeper.
I left it like that, not offering anything more, just to see what she’d do. And my little slut pushed her tits into my side, head tilted up toward me. She wants it. Good.
I cocked an eyebrow at her with the look of ‘don’t fucking test me, little girl’. I set my Coke on the low glass table in front of us and shifted sideways on the couch, looking right at her. I held her chin when she tried to look down because she instinctively knew she was in some trouble.
“Are you getting pushy, little girl?”
She saw the warning in my face when she tried to answer, because the words died on her lips. I nodded her head for her.
“What do you think I do to pushy little girls?” I was struck by how fucking brave she was to sit in front of me, not shrinking, not running away, when I went all cold and evil. I waited for her to answer.
She mumbled, too quiet to hear over the music, but her lips were readable. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. You saw me take care of A.” She paled, eyes wide with fear and I wanted more of it. Her fear slithered over my brain like a drug. I wanted to lick it all up. I dropped my hand from her chin to her throat and pushed her back against the couch. Held her there as I leaned fo
rward, so my lips brushed her ear. “Did you think dressing like this would make me forget who or what I am and who and what you are?”
The gravel-growl in my voice got harder as I spoke and I felt her pulse leap under my fingers. She started to tremble, but didn’t pull away. This was teetering on the edge of bad. I knew it and pushed it anyway, lightly shaking her by her neck and raising my voice, “Did you?”
She yelped, “No!” Her breathing was erratic, irregular, and she pushed against my arm, yelling, “I just thought it would be sexy and fun. Fuck, Xander. Yellow!”
I dropped my hand, surprised, but a small voice in the recesses of my mind was not surprised at all. But, she started crying and I hadn’t expected that. I leaned over her again, raising my hand to her face and she flinched away. Ice pick in my heart.
That was it, the moment. The thing I needed to see. It was the consequence of how I was treating her. It wasn’t anything other than rational on her part. I fucked up and now she didn’t want me near her.
She yelled at me, “No! Just give me a fucking minute. I don’t know how to be whatever it is you want me to be. I don’t want to do this with you if it isn’t going to be fun for both of us.”
“Shit, me neither, honey.” I pulled her next to me. “Come here, little girl. Shhh.” I murmured into her hair. “You’re perfect. You did exactly what I expect of you.”
When she calmed, I went on, “I want you to push back against me. I want you to be you.”
Her muscles went tight. This was the mindfuck of it and I knew it. Be you. Don’t change, but I’ll punish you for it. Give me a reason to hurt you. I tried to soften it a little, wanting to protect her. “But, sweetheart, what did you think would happen with this outfit tonight?”
The tension fell away from her and she slackened against me, resting her head on my shoulder. “I didn’t think about it.” And once she spoke, the words tumbled out of her in a rush. “I didn’t have some big plan. I just thought it would be fun, cute, a little sassy or sexy or something. I was teasing you a little, I guess.”
I made my voice gentle, but stern. “What did you think other people would think?” I paused to let her answer, but she didn’t speak. “Because I think that there are some people here who will take this look as an invitation to spank you like a bad school girl. At a minimum. I’m not saying that dressing like this really is an invitation. It isn’t, but it is provocative. God knows I feel provoked. But I will not be moved or controlled by you. I am what I always am, and you are what you always are. Mine.”
She looked up at me, wet wide eyes glittering in the lights from the club. She looked mollified, steady. Her mascara was smudged a little and I liked it. I knew it was fucked up because I wanted her to cry, but never wanted her to feel anything bad, but wanted to cause her pain. It was a fucked up tangle in my head. But one thing made sense. She was mine.
I gave her a minute to respond if she wanted to, to pull away if she wanted to. But her features settled into something akin to peace and I leaned forward, slowly, to give her time to retreat if needed. I lightly kissed her lips, slow and soft. She yielded to me and her lips opened, admitting me into her.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Leda
Lindsey Stirling, Anti Gravity
I looked up at him, feeling oddly settled and solid. Deep inside my psyche, there was something reassuring and secure in knowing that he wasn’t as reactive as me. He leaned into me, kissing me, slow, his tongue tracing my lips and opening me, stroking into the depths of my mouth. There was nothing like kissing through tears.
The way that he kissed me obliterated the rest of the world from my awareness. He was leaning over me, trapping me against the couch, but he kept his lips soft, his tongue slowly moving over me. He felt like honey.
We took our time getting into our play, first visiting the sensual play room. We settled on a low couch and watched the bodies moving together. I sat on his lap, facing the action in the room, and felt him get hard, pressing into my back. Xander’s hand slipped around my waist and up to the swell of my breasts, tracing the curves, while he kissed, sucked and bit at my neck. I turned toward him to tell him I wanted him, but he anticipated me and shifted me over him so that I was straddling his lap, facing him. He slipped his hands up the sides of my thighs, under my skirt, to my hips. When we were kissing again, he made a low frustrated growl when he yanked at my panties. They didn’t move because of my position. He gave up trying to pull them off, and instead, traced the crack of my ass under me to my wetness. His fingers teased and tickled me. I could feel his muscles tightening, his sounds growing more frustrated. He stroked up my back, flipping my skirt up as he moved his hand.
“I need to fuck you…soon.” He growled into my ear. “But this isn’t the right place for what I like.”
What we like, I thought as he stood up, holding me in position with my legs wrapped around him.
He carried me out of the room, with some amused bystanders watching us. He didn’t put me down once we left the room, but continued carrying me to the hidden stairwell that came from the back of the loft. Once tucked into that alcove, he set me down and reached under my skirt, pulling my panties down to my knees. He slipped his fingers into me. I reached for his hardness through his jeans, gripped him and stroked.
We went at each other like there was a deadline, like we were panicked, frenzied for a few minutes, frantically touching, before I unzipped him and pulled his cock out. There was a bead of pre-cum at the tip that I rubbed around with my thumb. He tilted his head up and groaned. I gazed up at him, memorizing the angles of his neck and jaw, how the muscles of his body tightened and arched toward me, seemingly without volition. When he dropped his gaze back down to me, I got a brief glimpse of a feral part of him before he spun me around and pushed my upper back down so I bent in half as he slammed his cock into me, all in one fluid movement. He ground it into me, unrelenting, punishing.
“God, you are so fucking dirty. Panties around your knees, getting fucked in a stairwell.”
Oh…why yes, yes I am. I smiled to myself, owning it, reveling in it.
“Just for you.” I moaned and he pounded into me harder, a few more times before his muscles tightened and released. He came deep inside me, but I was so wet that it only added to my saturation.
We sat in the stairwell for a few more minutes, laughing, catching our breath. He was so beautiful in these moments when the tension was gone from him, laughter touching his eyes, expression unguarded. But after a few minutes, the hardness returned to his face. He looked at me, softening his expression for a moment, kissing me again, but when he pulled back, his face was hard. The Dominant Xander. The Sadist Xander.
“We’re going to find Mistress Seraphim and her slave and I’m going to spend some time training her. I want you involved. Do you have any objections?”
“I don’t want to be away from you, but I’m nervous about participating. Can’t I watch again? I liked it last time,” I whined.
“I’m gonna ask you to trust me. Wait and see if you like it, but give it a little try, at least. Okay?”
I nodded and we stood to leave the alcove. As we walked, he added, “You know what I’m going to be thinking about the whole time?”
I shook my head.
“Your dripping wet pussy.”
My jaw dropped at the vulgarity of that.
He paused again, thoughtful, then grabbed my face. “Do you know what this means to me, Leda? That you accept me, and what I need. God, that you are everything I need.” His voice sounded pressured, strained.
I stared up into his face, unsure what to say, so I didn’t speak. But something about that statement planted itself in the back of my mind, unresolved. This feeling that he thought this was a sacrifice for me.
I knew there was something there to work out, to tease out, but I pushed it away. Gruffly, his kissed me again. “Let’s go.”
Seraphim and A were just arriving when we stepped out to the foyer-like room. They
were checking Seraphim’s coat and her slave’s clothes. Seraphim’s eyes widened a bit at my clothing and A just smirked.
Seraphim air-kissed Xander’s cheeks, saying, “Hello, hello. School-girl, Xander? Really?” She smiled and shook her head.
He answered, “I know. I’m not letting her out of my sight tonight. But…how has your pet been since last time?”
“Well…the same as always. I don’t know what to do with her.” She sounded like some wealthy socialite talking about her lap dog. “She has her moods and gets so defiant. She knows she should be on her knees, but she’s still standing.”
The woman sneered at us and stood a little taller, jutting her jaw out. Seraphim let out a little disgusted sigh and grabbed the back of her neck. With her other hand, she strapped a collar with attached leash on her. A very intentionally drew her gaze to meet her Mistress’ directly. Seraphim’s eyes narrowed and she slapped her. Then, the anger seemed to go out of her and she turned back to Xander.
“See what I mean. Just so bad. She was a little better after last time, but it was short-lived.”
“I guess we’ll just have to try harder.” Xander’s voice was conversational, but his face was a little terrifying—flat, blank with occasional flashes of menace.
The slave-girl turned and looked at him, saying nothing.
Acceptance crossed Xander’s face and he turned back to Seraphim. “May I?”
She nodded her assent for the slave to be used. Faster than I expected, he grabbed her hair and pulled her forward and down, at the same time, hooking a foot behind her knee so her legs crumbled. She fell to her hands and knees between them. He hadn’t let go of my hand through the whole series of movements.
“Ah, that’s better,” said Seraphim, yanking at the leash and pulling her pet along to the dungeon.
Xander turned to look at me. “Green?”
“Green.” I said with a freaked out smile, but then on an impulse, I stepped close to him, onto my tiptoes and kissed him quick, a big smile flashing across my lips.
Wrecked (The Blackened Window) Page 26