SMARTS!

by Jay Lawrence

  Amber took a bite of the croissant. It was filled with thick, creamy chocolate. Heaven. It was at that moment that she noticed Antoine, sitting at a nearby table. His eyes were firmly fixed on her, an expression of mild amusement on his good-looking face.

  "How are your shoes this morning?"

  Amber couldn't answer him immediately, as her mouth was filled with pastry. She could feel her cheeks burning and could have kicked herself for not noticing him before she took such an enthusiastic bite. Antoine picked up his mug and moved to her table.

  "It's okay. I'll let you finish your mouthful. Beautiful day."

  Amber nodded, desperately trying to dispatch the croissant. She wondered if she had chocolate on her lips.

  "Yes! I was out exploring when the café owner captured me."

  Antoine smiled.

  "Ah yes, Tony is rather good at lassoing his customers. You've stumbled on one of the neighborhood gems. Did you enjoy being rounded up?"

  Amber laughed and took a sip of her coffee. There was something alluring yet vaguely unsettling about the tone of Antoine's voice.

  "Tony is extremely dominant."

  "Yes, I suppose he is."

  Amber's heart seemed to skip a beat then it began to pound. She was suddenly nervous, yet also strangely exhilarated. She played with the handle of her coffee cup and stared at her croissant. She'd rather die than take another bite in front of Antoine.

  "Tony enjoys being in control. Calling the shots."

  Why was he going on about the café owner? Amber's gaze slid out to the street. She watched Tony confidently approaching strangers, his powerful personality easily overcoming the more passive indecisive types. He must've spotted her a mile off, a tame gazelle in contrast to his leonine charms. Suddenly, with a shock, Amber realized that she was sexually aroused. She looked at Antoine with a mixture of fear and wonder.

  "You want to be controlled, don't you? I can see it in your eyes."

  His voice was very quiet but steady. Amber began to feel lightheaded.

  "I need some air."

  "I know exactly what you need. Will you let me give it to you?"

  Amber looked into Antoine's piercing eyes. The bright October sunlight made them silvery, shimmering like liquid mercury. She could disappear into those electric, commanding eyes and never return. When she spoke her voice was a whisper.

  "What is it you want from me?"

  Antoine smiled.

  "Absolute submission. Nothing more. Nothing less."

  CHAPTER III

  "The Eight of Wands. Your life is speeding up. Get your man to buy you a sports car."

  Amber laughed. She couldn't resist having another tarot card reading just to see if it sounded like the first. Oddly, it did. The Knight of Swords made his appearance too.

  "A feisty outspoken kind of guy, maybe born under an Air sign."

  "I'm an Aquarian" murmured Antoine.

  The reader nodded and continued laying out the cards. They were in a dark, cave-like store in Chinatown. Antoine had offered to show Amber around and, despite some formless misgivings, she had accepted.

  "Hmm, the final outcome is the Hanged Man. There's nothing you can do, my dear, but submit to circumstances. Your hands are tied. My advice to you is to go with the flow."

  Antoine coughed meaningfully. Amber paid the reader and they walked out into the street.

  "Tell me again what you want me to do."

  She was like a child, asking for the same bedtime story, delighting in the repetition. Antoine placed his hand on her back. There was a strength in the gesture that was beyond physical and she shivered.

  "I want you to come with me this evening to meet the other members of my group. I want you to wear some special clothes and shoes for me. I want you to be mine for the night, to obey my commands and trust my judgment implicitly."

  It all sounded so simple. She reveled in the clear-cut nature of the words, the straightforward requests. There was no messing around, no indecision. If she accepted, she would give Antoine her power for a brief period of time. It wasn't about cruelty and humiliation. It was about power exchange.

  "I know you will be a wonderful submissive, Amber. You see, it isn't something you have to learn. It's what you are."

  They stood before a Chinese grocery store. Boxes of exotic fruits and vegetables spilled out onto the sidewalk. Inside, a myriad of colorful items were piled from floor to ceiling.

  "Wait here."

  Antoine disappeared inside the Aladdin's Cave. Meekly, Amber lingered outside as she was instructed. Was it some kind of test? To her surprise, she discovered that she really enjoyed being told what to do. Normally, she'd hate being bossed around but it was the tone of Antoine's voice. It thrilled her, excited her in a way that made her underwear extremely moist. Her panties were soaked.

  A minute or so passed then Antoine reappeared, holding a small package.

  "I want you to wear this for the remainder of the day, Amber. Its presence will remind you of me and concentrate your mind on pleasing your new Master."

  Amber looked down. It was a cheap red nylon dog collar. Her nipples were hard as she allowed Antoine to buckle it firmly about her neck and intense sensations of arousal swirled in her vulva. She was mastered. What would it mean?

  * * * *

  She can't be me.

  Amber stood before the ornate gilt mirror in her hotel bedroom. A strange girl gazed back at her – tall, dark haired and wearing a scarlet satin corset, the top of which barely concealed her voluptuous breasts. The reflection also wore sheer black seamed stockings and red patent leather shoes. The sharp, spiky stiletto heels of the pumps were six inches tall and Amber swayed slightly as she appraised herself, finding it a little difficult to keep her balance.

  Do I look like a slut?

  "You look absolutely beautiful, Amber."

  Antoine sat in a chair nearby, his keen eyes taking in every nuance of his new slave's appearance. He dearly longed to make love to her there and then but there was a BDSM event to attend first.

  "What if I fall over?"

  Amber lifted one foot and touched the tip of the heel as if testing a blade for sharpness. Antoine watched the fine scarlet silk of her panties mold to her lush bottom and felt himself grow harder than ever. He thought of putting Amber across his knees and spanking her bare wriggling behind until she squealed for mercy.

  "Then you'll get up again. And I'll tan your hide for being so clumsy and showing up your Master."

  Amber laughed, nervously. She fingered the dog collar. Its steady, encircling pressure about her sensitive throat had given her endless frissons through the day. No one had given the offbeat accessory a second glance in town – it was San Francisco, after all – but the hotel receptionist had shot it a knowing look. A similar look to the cab driver, in fact, but how could he have known? Realization dawned.

  "Is this hotel, um, well known for this kind of thing?"

  Antoine grinned.

  "You could say that. The owners are well known in the scene. Only she is the dominant partner. Her alter ego is Lady Carnelian."

  "I see. Obviously, there's a whole world out there that I've never even heard of!"

  Antoine moved close behind Amber until she could feel the warm moist mist of his breath on the nape of her neck. Slowly, he traced her naked shoulders with the tips of his fingers, making her shudder and gasp with pleasure. Everything about the day had turned her on – Antoine's insistent, masculine presence, the sensual constriction of the dog collar about her pulsing throat, being tightly laced into a fabulous brocade corset...

  "I love your innocence. It's exactly what I've been looking for."

  Antoine's mouth caressed the ultra-sensitive place behind Amber's ear. She couldn't bear the tension. For the first time in her life she wanted to throw herself at a man, tell him that she was all his. His voice was a soft murmur in her ear.

  "You really want me to take you, don't you?"

  Amber could only nod.
An orgasm was beginning to rise within her, a deeper, infinitely more potent sensation than anything she'd known before. She was incredibly wet between the legs, her sweet moisture staining the crotch of the skimpy panties. Antoine's hands moved down to the intricate lacing of the corset. Amber yearned for him to caress her breasts. Desperately aroused, she arched her spine and thrust her ivory décolletage out and up. Her swollen nipples threatened to escape from the satin embrace but the strict corset boning held them fast. Antoine's hands gripped her waist, more like a dance partner than a lover.

  "I want you to channel that need, Amber. Do you understand? This is all about control. You will come when I say you may come and not a second before."

  "I'll try. But–"

  Antoine's hands left Amber's body and she wanted to scream with frustration.

  "I know. You're already over-stimulated. Kneel."

  "What?"

  "You heard what I said, Amber. Kneel for me."

  Slowly, Amber slid to her knees on the thick Persian rug. Instinctively, she lowered her gaze and placed the palms of her hands on her stocking-clad thighs.

  "Excellent. You look like a fully trained slave-girl."

  Amber's mind was reeling. Submission, control, training... The hotel owner was a mistress called Lady Carnelian. What had she fallen into? Everything was moving so quickly, strange, wild events unfolding at the speed of light. The Eight of Wands. What next in the adventure?

  CHAPTER IV

  "The eighth vibration is related to sexuality in a deeper sense. Beyond the simple, raunchy pleasures of the fifth house, the eighth house is considerably darker. It's leather and handcuffs rather than sweet white lace. It's essentially about transformation. Sex as a vehicle for release and rebirth. Get it?"

  "I think so."

  Amber sat on a large oriental-style cushion. Beside her, Marcus, the hotel proprietor and slave/husband of "Lady Carnelian", explained astrological and esoteric lore to a handsome black guy in a blue latex garment that appeared to have been sprayed onto his incredible body. Everyone in the group was "unusual" in one way or another. Any one of them would have stood out like a sore thumb in Amber's home town. What a dull little place it was!

  "What about the Eight of Wands?"

  Marcus turned to look at Amber. She was gratified by the way his eyes appreciated her beautiful body in a subtle, respectful manner. He was wearing a kind of corset-like garment himself, in black leather with matching wrist and ankle cuffs.

  "The Eight of Wands? Speed. Excitement. Adventure. Being swept off your feet. Why do you ask?"

  Amber smiled and glanced over at Antoine, who stood talking to Lady Carnelian. He had instructed her to sit on the floor cushion for the duration of the group soiree, unless he commanded her to stand. She was quite glad as it gave her feet a rest and an opportunity to observe the group from an interesting viewpoint.

  "Oh, it came up in two readings I've had recently. And it certainly seems to be coming true. My life has changed beyond recognition."

  Marcus nodded.

  "Like that old song, What A Difference a Day Makes."

  "Absolutely! In twenty-four little hours I've somehow managed to transform into this."

  Amber examined her risqué outfit. She had been terrified to leave her hotel room, convinced that everyone would stare and whisper. Then she discovered that the other guests were similarly or even more exotically dressed. Suddenly, it became easy to relax.

  "Amber, my dear, you look stunning. I could eat you all up."

  Lady Carnelian's black patent thigh-boots appeared before Amber and she looked up at the statuesque redhead who stared down at her with a steely glint in her bright green eyes. A gloved hand reached down and sharply tugged at Amber's chignon. Amber gasped at the rough gesture.

  "Don't you just want to whip her, Antoine?"

  Antoine laid a firm restraining hand on Lady Carnelian's arm.

  "Yes, I do. Very much. But Amber must learn to walk before she can run."

  Lady Carnelian snorted.

  "I think you've underestimated this girl. She'll take anything you give her and lap it right up."

  "What an excellent idea, Lady C."

  Amber watched as Antoine spoke to a pretty Japanese girl in a tiny leopard print mini dress and metallic gold fetish boots. Meekly, she left the room then returned carefully carrying a shallow bowl filled with some liquid. She walked gingerly in her incredibly high heels to prevent the liquid from slopping over the side of the bowl. Amber noticed that she wore a broad leather collar embellished with three steel rings.

  "Thank you, Miko."

  Antoine placed the bowl on the floor before Amber. The room went quiet with anticipation. Amber's heart began to beat faster. Why were they all looking at her? She didn't want to be the center of attention. The bowl contained milk. What on earth?

  "Drink your milk, Amber."

  Antoine's voice was very firm and steady, containing no hint of malice. Amber looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears of confusion. She felt stupid.

  "But how?" she whispered, desperately wishing they were not being watched.

  "Miko will show you how."

  The Japanese girl knelt down beside the bowl then, moving onto all fours with a sensual, sinuous movement, she dipped her face to the milk. Amber saw her tongue snake out and begin to lap like a cat. It was the sexiest act she had ever witnessed.

  "Like that. Very nice. Thank you, Miko."

  Amber's cheeks were pink as she lowered herself into the required position. She felt like an animal. Hadn't Antoine said he wouldn't humiliate her? This was some kind of test. Slowly, she dipped the tip of her tongue in the milk. She didn't want to drink. She wanted to run back to her bedroom, close the door behind her and hide.

  "Drink your milk, Amber."

  The tone of Antoine's voice had changed. He sensed her discomfort and resistance and was determined to break it down. His voice seemed to wash over her like a tide, something much bigger than she was, something so powerful and overwhelming that she could never resist it in a million years. Humbly, she began to lap up the milk. Her nipples were so hard she could feel them pushing against the corset and, once again, her panties were moist. It all came from the tone of his voice. When he spoke to her that way, why she would do just about anything for him. He was like a hypnotist.

  "I think that's enough. Well done, Amber. Good girl."

  When Amber sat up her eyes were shining with joy. She had pleased her Master. It was a delicious feeling.

  * * * *

  The girl writhed on a structure that resembled a sort of wooden cross. Naked but for leather collar and boots, she cried out in a strange blend of pain and pleasure. Behind her, a man, her Master, lashed her squirming buttocks and thighs with a many-tailed flogger. There was a rhythmic swishing, cracking sound. Amber stared, mesmerized like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an approaching vehicle.

  They had moved on to a fetish nightclub, the Club Justine. Everything seemed to have intensified and Amber was beginning to feel out of her depth. Her senses were overloaded by the wild apparitions around her. Not just kinky clothes, latex and leather and chains, but sex acts which made her eyes open wide with shock. Whips, floggers, clamps, paddles, canes. There was a veritable armory of implements on show. Were they torture implements or devices of pleasure? The music was dizzyingly loud, some heavy, thudding industrial sound and the place was decorated like a set from a gothic horror movie, all crimson and black. Antoine moved easily in the room, pausing to greet friends, never letting go of Amber's wrist. She felt captured by him and she loved the sensation of his strong fingers wrapped about her tender flesh. If it wasn't for his potent effect on her she would leave the club for sure. It was quite frightening.

  "Don't worry, Amber. I don't expect you to join in. Just observe."

  Antoine's reassurance helped Amber to relax. Some of the things she witnessed made her toes curl inside her outrageous shoes. It was amazing how much pain some of the submis
sives or "bottoms" could take.

  "Their bodies are flooded with endorphins. It transforms pain into something else – more like a rush or a high."

  "I see. Look at all those bruises!"

  They stood watching a gay "top" disciplining his naked sub. The guy was draped almost lifelessly over a kind of wooden horse, like gym apparatus. Florid bruising and welts covered his buttocks, thighs and shoulders.

  "He's a masochist, Amber. A true pain slut. There are many shades in the BDSM world. It's not necessary to embrace them all. I'm going to spank you later which will not leave any marks just a delicious warmth."

  "Spank me?"

  Amber swayed on her stiletto heels. The heat and noise of the club was beginning to disorientate her. She didn't like it. The thought of Antoine spanking her was both terrifying and wildly exciting. Her heart lurched and she leaned against her dominant.

  "Please. I need some air."

  Outside in the cool, damp night, a large wrap protecting her modesty, Amber felt rather silly.

  "I've let you down, haven't I? Oh Antoine, I'm so sorry. It was just too much."

  Antoine kissed her lightly on the forehead and she wanted to cry. She felt wretched.

  "Listen to me, Amber. Your apology is welcome as it shows how keen you are to please me. I don't mind leaving the club as I really don't want you to suffer. But you must call me Master, not Antoine. You're not my equal in this world. Do you understand?"

  Amber swallowed. Why was she acting this way? She was a grown woman but she felt as if she had regressed to being a little girl. It was both alluring and scary.

  "Yes, Master."

  The words sounded theatrical and a little forced but the pleased look on Antoine's face made the effort worthwhile.

  "Excellent. Now, we're going to go back to the hotel. I hope you're not tired because it's going to be a long night."