by Jay Lawrence
"Do you do this all the time? Pick up young women at hotels and seduce them in kinky style?"
Antoine frowned.
"Not really. I have played with quite a few girls, of course. You didn't expect me to be a virgin master of discipline, did you?"
His expression was so comical that Amber had to laugh.
"No, no. I'm sorry. It's just that I'm feeling rather swept off my feet. You have to remember that all this is new to me. You, dominance and submission and San Francisco. All new and rather overwhelming."
Antoine sighed and stabbed a crab cake.
"I understand. Well, to answer your question, I don't generally pick up girls. Usually, I meet them through my group or at a club and they are already in the scene."
Amber thought of the terrifying Club Justine and her heart sank. She thought of trained, experienced submissives like Miko who knew exactly how to please a Master. How could she compete with them? A lump grew in her throat and she suddenly lost her appetite. Good heavens, was she already emotionally attached to Antoine? Or was she ensnared by the power of sexual submission?
"In fact, Amber, I can say that you are something of a one-off. I knew you were a submissive the moment I set eyes upon you. Pure instinct plus some sharp observation. The concept of starting with a totally fresh canvas was too good to pass up. An inexperienced yet genuine submissive. Every dominant's dream."
"You make me sound like a project!"
Amber began to feel better. At least her lack of "training" did not appear to be a handicap. It was even an advantage of sorts. She began to eat her soup. She was hungry, after all, and it might be another long, intense night...
CHAPTER VI
The Eight of Wands flying like javelins across a clear blue sky.
Amber woke from a strange dream in which she was the only passenger in a plane flown by Antoine. Higher and higher they flew, faster and faster, over the sprawling green lawns and treetops of a large park then up, up above the city, over the glittering bay and the Golden Gate bridge. It was a small jet plane and Amber was both exhilarated and a little frightened. She held onto her seat as if it was a fairground ride and watched the scenery below until it blurred together and became white like the blended colors of a spinning top. Taped to the rear of the pilot's seat was the tarot card, the Eight of Wands.
"Aren't we going a bit too fast?"
Her voice was carried away by the roar of the engines and Antoine merely turned his head slightly and nodded, oblivious. The plane was flying faster and faster, higher and higher, apparently towards the sun. Amber screamed in panic and woke up with a jolt.
Just a silly dream.
It was almost dinner time. She must have fallen asleep, exhausted by the events of the night before. Could she keep up the pace? She was used to early nights and nothing more exciting than a trip to the movie theater. A beautiful dress lay across the foot of the bed and Amber remembered and smiled. Antoine had bought it for her at a second hand store specializing in glamorous retro outfits. It was a 1950s cocktail dress, black with a sheer pleated waterfall of fabric cascading from a large diamante brooch at the waist. She had always wanted a dress like that, a real movie star dress. Of course, she had to wear outrageous stilettos with it but that was all right. It was more than all right. She mustn't be late.
Quickly, Amber showered and changed into her latest kinky outfit. This time it was a funny almost conical bra from the 50s which made her breasts look like torpedoes. She giggled at her reflection. An equally retro satin wasp-waisted corselette and sheer flesh colored seamed stockings completed the outfit. At Antoine's insistence, no panties. The shoes were black and shiny, impossibly high the heels spiked like daggers. Deftly, Amber pinned her hair up and applied a thick coating of scarlet lipstick. As she sprayed on a little eau de toilette as a finishing touch Antoine entered the room.
"You look good enough to spank!"
Amber smiled up at him and hoped she didn't have lipstick on her teeth.
"The bra did make me laugh!"
"Stand up and turn to one side."
Amber did as she was bid, laughing.
"Jane Russell eat your heart out!" she quipped.
Antoine's gaze was less frivolous.
"I like it. If you've got it, Amber, flaunt it. Now, we are going to go down to dinner with the group. You will sit quietly, only speak with my permission and, if you disobey this rule, I will lift your skirt in front of everyone and smack your bare bottom very hard. Understand?"
"Yes, Master."
Amber swallowed. It sounded very strict but also extremely arousing. Suddenly, the tight, taut, cantilevered bra didn't seem so silly after all. It was downright sexy. So was the corselette which nipped in her waist, smoothed her hips and gave her a Marilyn Monroe wiggle when she walked.
The long mahogany dining table was beautifully decorated with bowls of red roses. Amber noticed that the thorns were still attached which seemed appropriate for a group whose chosen pleasures included sharp stinging sensations. She sat down demurely and was gratified to note the admiring glances she received from both dominants and submissives. Suddenly, she felt very confident, secure in her new role. There were twelve couples at the table, a mix of heterosexual and same sex partners. Lady Carnelian and Marcus presided over the head and foot of the table. Amber couldn't help noticing that Marcus was almost naked but for a tight leather thong. It was just as well the room was warm, logs blazing in the fireplace. Miko appeared, dressed in a tiny French maid's outfit. She passed from guest to guest, carefully filling everyone's water glass from a large pitcher. Amber realized, with a sudden shock, that the Japanese girl's breasts were naked and her nipples were pierced with small steel rings. She wore a very short and puffy skirt with a mass of petticoats and a lace trimmed apron. Every time she leaned forwards to fill a glass her frilly panties showed beneath the skirt and all eyes were fixed on her.
The first course was served, a suitably autumnal golden squash soup. Antoine did not speak to Amber and she concentrated on savoring the delicious soup and observing the other group members. There was a tall, stunning black girl who looked as if she might be a model. She wore a choker made of disks of jade and a slinky strapless evening dress. At first, Amber wasn't sure whether she was a top or a bottom until she grasped her auburn-haired female partner by the arm and kissed her in a way that was anything but submissive. Amber watched, her spoon raised almost to her lips. She had never seen two women kiss like that before. Not in real life. The redhead laughed and Amber saw that she bore a tattoo of two stylized initials. Her mistress's?
The main course was roast beef. Amber picked at the meat, finding it a bit underdone for her taste and Antoine noticed.
"Don't play with your food, Amber. Eat it all up or there will be no dessert."
Everyone looked at her and she blushed scarlet. She really felt as if she was a naughty little girl. There was an almost predatory, expectant look in the dominants' eyes and her heart lurched. She stabbed her fork into a slice of meat and it oozed pink gravy. She really loathed rare beef. In her discomfort and confusion she forgot the rule of the evening and muttered "But it will make me feel sick!"
As soon as the words were out she regretted them but it was too late. The room was silent but for the crackling of the logs in the tall marble fireplace. Antoine looked at her with an inscrutable expression that both scared and aroused her. Was he really going to spank her bare bottom in front of everyone. Her cheeks flushed even deeper.
"Stand up, Amber."
Amber's mouth was dry. Slowly, she did as Antoine bid. She kept her gaze firmly on the swirling pattern of the Chinese rug. Antoine pushed back his chair. Her heart was thumping and she almost imagined she could see the twin peaks of her magnificently presented breasts twitching rhythmically in response. To her amazement, a tiny dribble of juice ran down the inside of her thigh and melted into the top of her stocking.
"Turn around and place your hands on the chair back."
In an
agony of suspense and confusion, Amber obeyed. She felt Antoine's hand grasp the hem of her beautiful dress and lift it up. The warm air of the room caressed the backs of her thighs above her stocking tops and then she felt her bare bottom exposed. They could all see her naked buttocks.
"Spread your legs and raise your ass."
Tears of humiliation filled Amber's eyes but there was something much more happening to her. A rush of arousal made her feel so excited that she could barely stand. She dipped forwards, holding onto the back of her chair and thrusting her bottom towards the table. She knew they could all see her bottom and her pussy too. They could see Antoine's hand caressing her lush white curves.
"This is for your own good, Amber. You must not disobey me."
Antoine's hand cupped her cheeks one by one as if demonstrating their loveliness to the group then there was a tense pause.
Smack!
The palm of his hand made short sharp contact with her quivering bottom. It was not a really hard slap and Amber realized that he probably knew how awful she felt at breaking the rule. Her heart swelled with pleasure and affection.
Smack!
Again and again, Antoine spanked Amber, until her bottom grew very warm and as red as her face. Her pussy was incredibly moist, from the sensual slaps and the knowledge that every member of the group had their eyes firmly fixed upon her, witnessing her punishment. It was torment of a very special, thrilling kind.
"Very nice."
"Very nice indeed."
When Antoine stopped, voices praised her, admiring her lovely bottom and her willingness to submit to her Master in public. Amber was so excited she felt as if she were on the brink of coming. Antoine grasped her arm and whispered "Come with me."
He led her through a pair of French doors, out onto a small balcony overlooking the hotel garden. Amber felt dizzy with heat, wine and extreme arousal. She leaned against the balcony, barely able to stand in her six-inch stilettos. Antoine took her in his arms and she couldn't have fought him off if she had wanted to. He kissed her hard, his tongue snaking past her scarlet lips.
"I want you now, Amber."
Swiftly, he unfastened his pants and lifted Amber's dress. With a single forceful thrust he was deep inside her silky wetness and she cried out, her shriek of pleasure muffled by his demanding mouth.
"You feel so good."
Amber's bare bottom touched cold damp stone but she didn't care. Antoine pounded into her, hard and fast, his solid erection rhythmically massaging her swollen clitoris.
So good... So good...
His hands cupped her buttocks then, to her surprise, he lifted her clean off her feet and she wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling him orgasm deep inside her, right against her cervix. She cried out again and came hard, her slick, hot pussy pulsing and contracting around his thick shaft.
"You're so beautiful, Amber. And special too. I think you might be the girl I've been waiting for."
Amber could not reply. She was panting with the sudden exertion and excitement. She could not imagine behaving like this with anyone other than Antoine. He kissed her again and she whispered into his mouth.
"I think you're special too, Master. I'm so sorry I spoke at the dinner table."
Antoine grinned and stroked her cheek.
"Don't be sorry. Look what happened. Punishment was its own reward. Now, we should return to the group. Take my hand."
Amber placed her hand in Antoine's firm cool grip. Suddenly, she felt surer than she'd ever felt in her life that she was doing the right thing.
* * * *
"Bend over, raven. Spread your thighs. Wide."
They stood together in a secluded corner of Golden Gate Park one warm summer evening. Amber wore a very short plaid skirt and white go-go boots. She leaned forwards over a low wall so her mini-skirt flipped up to expose her sheer red panties. Antoine knelt and took some images with a digital camera. They had decided, after Amber's initial trip to San Francisco and several months of long-distance romance, that she would relocate to live with him. Amber was now a fully collared submissive, Antoine's slave girl, and they lived the lifestyle 24/7. Her slave name was raven, a name chosen and bestowed on her by Antoine along with the heavy black leather collar which bore a single large steel ring and resembled a rather avant-garde choker. Amber realized, with a delicious shiver, that it was the BDSM equivalent of a wedding ring and she was very happy. Somehow, it meant much more to be fully owned by a Master than to be married to a regular guy.
"Put your hands on your ass. Lovely."
Their favorite game was to seek out public yet secluded places where risqué photos could be taken. Both gained a thrill from the slight risk involved and various images of Amber naughtily exposing her skimpy underwear in parks and even on a dock at Fisherman's Wharf were posted on BDSM websites. She had a second career as a fetish footwear model, posing for glamorous, intense shots in which she wore high-heeled thigh boots and stiletto shoes for a friend of Antoine who ran a specialist webzine. It was a very unusual but deeply satisfying life and if anyone was going to live such a life, San Francisco would certainly be the place to live it.
"We're going to get arrested one day, Master!" laughed Amber, turning to face her smiling partner. Antoine kissed her.
"Not in San Francisco, angel. They'd have to arrest half the population."
"I suppose you're right."
"Of course I'm right. I'm always right."
Amber raised her eyes to the bright blue sky. She knew Antoine was teasing but she answered demurely.
"Yes, Master."
They began to walk into a more open area near the tennis courts, passing the usual collection of down and outs and college students lounging on the grass.
"Look, Master. A fortune teller."
Antoine knew that his slave could not resist a card reading. They sat down by a young native American woman who wore several strands of bright blue turquoise beads. Silently, the girl shuffled the tarot cards and proceeded to deal them out on a yellow cloth. Amber wondered if she could speak.
"Look! The Eight of Wands. I recognize that card! It's the card that brought me to you, Master. The card of sudden events."
Amber whispered the word Master and she thought she saw the card reader's lips twitch as if with amusement. More cards were dealt. The Lovers, the Ten of Cups.
"What does it mean? We are the lovers but what about the cups?"
The girl finally smiled, her even white teeth quite dazzling in her tanned face.
"Happy ever after. It's what everyone wants. Stay happy."
Antoine reached in his pocket to pay the girl but she shook her head, returning to her previous inscrutability.
"No money. Always do things for love."
"Thank you. That's an admirable sentiment. Isn't it, raven?"
"Yes. Sometimes you have to seize the day!"
They walked slowly away, hand in hand, the sun reflecting off the ring on Amber's collar, making it glint like a band of gold.
Well Reddened
* * * *
"Want to paint?"
The tiling guy playfully offered me his brush and I shook my head.
"No thanks! I've done enough painting."
I looked at the deep yellow wall of the bathroom and hoped he didn't think I'd done a poor job. I had done a lot of painting. Kitchen, bedroom, great room, bathroom... I'd been at it for weeks.
"Would you like some tea?"
My Britishness kicked in and I hurriedly left the enclosed space of the bathroom, leaving Ken and his pot of bright blue whatever-it-was to seal the joins in the drywall around my tub.
"Tea or coffee or whatever you have. I'll take a break in a minute."
He kept walking very purposefully from the bathroom to his van outside, the heels of his sturdy work shoes clicking on the bare plywood floor. Something in me responded to the sound, to the decisiveness of the rhythm. There was no messing about with Ken. I liked that. I put the kettle on. It was going to be
tea because tea is what I drink all day long, old country-style black tea with milk. I wondered if he'd like it.
Click, click, click. I busied myself with the teapot, making it properly, no teabags in mugs, even warming the pot with hot water first. Ken passed behind me as I stood in the makeshift kitchen, being domestic, and I had a strong intimation that he wanted to pinch my bottom. It took me a full minute to gather courage enough to ask him how he liked it. His tea, that is.
"Oh with some cream or whatever you have."
As always, the "cream is for coffee not for tea" rote passed through my mind but I said nothing. I took the milk out of the fridge.
"Sugar?"
"No thanks."
He leaned against the wall, watching me. He was a few years older than myself, somewhere between forty five and fiftyish, with short grey hair and wire-rimmed glasses. Average height, average build. It was his manner that I found attractive, something sharp and incisive lightly masked by a playful manner that I suspected was deceptive. I wasn't sure why but I felt off-guard, almost vulnerable in his presence.
"So how do you like your new house?"
The kettle switched itself off and I poured a stream of steaming water into the teapot. The sense of Ken's gaze upon me intensified.
"I like it very much. Tea won't be long, just a couple of minutes."
"Oh yes – must let it steep."
"Or infuse, as my mother would say."
"Quite."
Was he mocking me? The tension seemed to grow palpably and I swallowed. To hide my confusion I gestured at a package of chocolate digestives.
"Biscuit? Or, should I say, cookie?"
"My, you're bilingual. I'm impressed."