Wargasm

by Sosie Frost

  Anthony nudged me. “Go ahead, pet.”

  Now they were telling us when we could go to the bathroom? Ew. I hadn’t found a lot of limits, but there was a biggie.

  But I didn’t argue. I’d take whatever break I could get.

  The restroom contained an elaborately decorated and super posh seating area. Mariah leaned over a mirror, touching up her lipstick. Shannon answered a text. Genn read her screen and texted back.

  So that was how they got around the rules.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been quiet for this long,” I said. “I even talk when I sleep.”

  Mariah dropped her lipstick and whirled around, pressing both index fingers before her lips. But Shannon pounced on me before I could offer a wordless apology.

  Shannon launched me backward, pinning me against the wall. She clutched both of my wrists, jamming them to my sides and holding me still against the tile.

  She pushed her face within inches from mine.

  If it were Simone, I’d have been tortured with a kiss. But Shannon was all teeth.

  My stomach dropped as Genn flipped the lock on the door.

  “Listen to me, you little bitch.” Shannon’s grip hurt. “You are not going to get us in trouble.”

  So much for the no-talking rule. I twisted, but Shannon didn’t let me go. I really hoped Duchess had a standing, no-physical altercations law.

  Shannon shoved Mariah away as she tried to break us up.

  “You have no idea what you’re doing here,” Shannon snapped. “It’s a wonder Master Anthony even keeps you around.”

  “Let me go,” I said.

  “Why? Scared?”

  “No. Pissed off.”

  “Good,” she said. “So am I. You are the reason I hate this godforsaken trend. You don’t know what’s expected from a BDSM lifestyle. You don’t follow the rules, and you don’t understand how to act like a proper submissive.”

  “Like you never had to learn.”

  Shannon snorted. “This isn’t about learning the right way to sit or how to say thank-you with a mouthful of cock. This isn’t a game. We aren’t weekend subs. We belong to our men 24/7.”

  “I do too.”

  “Bullshit. You aren’t collared, and he won’t claim you until he’s sure you won’t freak out and call the cops.”

  Mariah stared at us like she’d just realized Nate had fed her a fistful of snails. Genn worried only about the door. Neither were thrilled by Shannon’s threats. At least we were all in agreement.

  “Get it through your head, Morgan. You are nothing but a sheath for a man’s cock. Anthony is going to fuck you. He’s going to let the other men fuck you. And it isn’t because you are special, and it isn’t because your master thinks you’re super cute.”

  The thought terrified me. “He won’t share me. He wants to be the only man to ever take me.”

  “Yeah. Now. While you’re still novel and your cunt is tight. But what happens as the weeks pass and your sputtering panic starts to annoy him?” Shannon’s gaze turned vile. “He’ll turn you out to the first fat-fuck who wants to get off. You’ll get rutted in the corner of the club without ceremony, without anyone even caring that some balding asshole with bad breath and a spare tire around is gut is humping the shit out of you, grunting as he fills you after two minutes with his slimy cum.” Shannon laughed. “Do you think anyone will care if it hurts you? If you weren’t ready? If you didn’t get off?”

  My stomach turned. “Are you done?”

  “No. Because you don’t understand what you are.” Shannon slapped my face. “You’re a slut. A whore. Someone who willingly gives up her body to please a man. Any man. So you got your cunt stuffed twice at Duchess? Big deal. That doesn’t make you a submissive. That makes you a walking liability for a man like Anthony.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “You’ll probably cry rape the minute he tears open your asshole.”

  The implication terrified me. “Let me go.”

  “What’s the matter, Morgan? Too scared to let him fuck your ass? He’ll destroy you. You know that. And the thing is…he’ll love doing it. Every minute you scream and beg and cry? It’ll make him come that much harder.”

  Anthony wasn’t like that. He hadn’t hurt me.

  At least, not yet.

  “Every couple months, Anthony finds a new girl to fuck at the club,” Shannon said. “He fucks her, parades her around, then chucks her out when he gets bored. What makes you think you’re any different? What makes you think he’s not going to get tired of teaching you the things other subs already know?”

  My heels offered me two inches of desperately needed height and confidence. I grappled with my courage and pushed Shannon away before she said anything else vile and terrible.

  No wonder they’d wanted her to shut her damn mouth tonight.

  I warned her with a hiss. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

  “You forgot to say ma’am.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “I will. Someday.” Her voice lowered. “You’ll scream for mercy when I fist your cunt wide-fucking-open.”

  The door rattled, and all four of us flinched. Genn unlocked the door, but Shannon pushed her out of the way—the first to leave the room…

  And the first to run head-first into Simone.

  Shannon hissed as Simone grabbed her by the hair. Her slap was sharp, quick, and left a well-deserved handprint against Shannon’s cheek.

  Apparently, we weren’t as quiet as we’d thought.

  Simone seethed. She released Shannon, but her order didn’t need to be spoken twice. “Back to the table. No talking.”

  Shannon fled with Mariah. Genn trailed quickly behind.

  Simone waited, watching as I massaged the ache from my wrists. Shannon’s fingernails had nearly cut me.

  “Morgan. Back to the table. Now.”

  How the hell was I supposed to face them?

  Simone grabbed my wrist, studying the marks left from Shannon’s fingernails. Simone merely quirked an eyebrow, huffed, then led me to the party.

  The doors to the room had closed and the dessert plates were cleared. The end of dinner meant something completely different to this crowd, but I didn’t want to play. I wished to go home. To sit with Anthony in his Jacuzzi tub and wash Shannon’s threats off me.

  “Everything okay?” Nate asked Simone.

  Mariah stiffened as she sat. Genn didn’t meet Reed’s eyes.

  Christ. My music major came with a few theater classes. They could at least act like nothing had happened.

  Simone wasn’t pleased. “Shannon needs something to shove in that big mouth of hers.”

  Shannon lowered her head. I smirked. Served her right.

  Thomas studied the red mark on her cheek. “You know what to do, slut.”

  Obediently, Shannon edged under the table. Not a word of protest. Not a hesitation.

  Maybe Shannon was right. This was more than I could handle. The restaurant wasn’t Duchess. This was public. Really public. Private room or not, waiters would still parade through to the table.

  Not like the men cared. Thomas hissed in satisfaction, and it seemed no one minded a bit of oral sex while finishing their coffees.

  “Morgan.” Simone didn’t disguise the disappointment in her voice. “You too.”

  No. No, no, no.

  Simone shared a glance with Anthony. The unspoken betrayal. Anthony’s voice lowered. His grumble struck me harder than any slap to the cheek.

  “You should know better, pet.”

  I opened my mouth, but his glare silenced my apology. His irritation was my only salvation. No words would have forgiven the mistake, and he saved me from disgracing myself while I begged.

  I knew what was expected. It didn’t make shifting under the table cloth and into the darkness next to Shannon any easier. At least my shame was halfway hidden between Anthony’s legs.

  Shannon worked on Thomas, her head bobbing as much as the limited space allo
wed. If nothing else, pleasuring Anthony gave me an opportunity to make up for completely ignoring the one explicit rule of the evening.

  Except I hadn’t ever pleased him like how Shannon slurped and sucked. My attempts to titillate Anthony came from quick licks and gentle kisses, more teasing than anything dedicated.

  I’d improvise, but Shannon’s words rang in my head. This was just another aspect of sex that Anthony had to teach me.

  His cock hardened at my touch. A win. I also removed it from his pants without complication.

  I peeked at Shannon, mimicking how she handled Thomas’s cock. Open mouth, swallow bits. I could do it. And I could do it just as well.

  Almost immediately, Anthony growled a profanity and jerked away.

  “Jesus Christ, Morgan.” Anthony grabbed my hair. “Watch your teeth.”

  Nate laughed. “Not into the rough stuff tonight?”

  Simone crossed her legs, her feet jabbing my ribs. “He’s always been oddly sensitive.”

  “I don’t like getting bit.”

  She kissed his cheek. “And that’s why you’re no fun.”

  So much for making it up to him.

  Anthony pushed me towards his cock, and I apologized with a quick kiss to his head. Back to the basics then. A tongue was a lot safer than potentially nicking him. He reacted again. Twitching against my light touches. Hardening as my lips curled over the underside of his shaft.

  He liked that. I resolved to please him with gentle strokes and a loving caress. I might not have been the cock-sheath Shannon claimed to be, but if I was good at anything lately, I could show Anthony how I felt.

  And if that meant kneeling between his legs in a Michelin-starred French restaurant while he talked club business with his friends, I’d worship him all night.

  Shannon’s elbow went wide as she gobbled more of Thomas. I dodged the blow. That hadn’t been an accident. I wished we were farther apart, but, due to the limitations of the table, our knees practically touched. I stiffened as she did it again.

  The nudge was harder, and, this time, she didn’t move her hand away.

  I shifted, but her nails dug into my skin. Dragged down my arm. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

  I edged closer to Anthony and diligently worked over his length. Shannon pinched a bit of skin on my arm, just enough to work between the tips of her razor nails. I flailed, but that only hurt more. With her fingers freed, she focused lower.

  I licked faster. Anthony shifted. His hand returned, and I welcomed the stroking fingers on my cheek, eager for any affection he’d offer.

  I received nothing of the sort.

  “Suck it, Morgan.”

  It was a command.

  A harsh one. And it felt like he’d punted me across the room.

  He wanted something different. Did that mean what I was doing was wrong? Did he not like it?

  His cock thrummed hard and hot in my hand. Maybe he really liked what I was doing, and he wanted more gratification?

  No. Hopeful thoughts. He wasn’t on the edge. He was frustrated. My throat closed before I even took him in my mouth. Had he sighed or signified any discontent, I’d have burst into tears. Definitely not sexy.

  Shannon’s hands returned the instant I wrapped my lips around his head. I dodged as best I could, but the last thing I wanted to do was accidently castrate him while fidgeting. Her fingers grazed the sides of my breasts. I clamped my hands to my side and shut her out.

  They fell to my hips. Then lower, to the edge of my dress.

  The material slipped upwards.

  Absolutely not.

  I slapped her, but the jerk earned a frustrated exhale from Anthony. I didn’t dare remove him from my mouth to shift away.

  But Shannon didn’t stop. Her hands brushed over my thighs, snapping the elastic on my lacey, dress-matching thong.

  The frustration yielded to helplessness, and my stomach roiled.

  I did not want this. Not at all. Not from anyone but Anthony, and absolutely not from Shannon.

  I tucked in closer to him, but edging forward did nothing to hide that part of me from her. The thong ripped aside.

  Now was the time for the safe word. I should have screamed it loud and demanded to go home where I could talk all I liked and hide safe on the couch.

  I hesitated for too long.

  Shannon attacked.

  And she didn’t aim for my pussy.

  A piercing, blinding, searing pain bit through me. Her thumb forced itself inside a very unaccommodating, untouched, red flag place. The sudden intrusion wasn’t gentle. She jammed her thumb hard enough to completely sheath inside me.

  I’d never felt any pain like that before.

  I squealed and smacked the top of my head against the table. Anthony also yelled, and I knew, just knew, I had hurt him as much as Shannon hurt me. I leapt away from the abuse, tugging my dress down to cover the offended area.

  Shannon returned her attention to Thomas as Anthony ripped me out from under the table.

  “What the hell are you doing?” He zipped his pants, grimacing as he adjusted himself. Simone reached for him. He smacked her hand away.

  Now that he wanted me to talk, I had no words to give him.

  My mind blanked. He was pissed. He was hurt.

  And so was I.

  I’d embarrassed him in front of his friends—the other doms and Simone.

  And me…

  I’d been violated. Deliberately hurt by a sadist who wanted to see me cry.

  I’d fucked up. Badly. Shannon might have molested me, but I was the one who disappointed Anthony. The tears bubbled up. He didn’t care.

  Anthony didn’t hesitate. He picked me up and laid me against an unused table. I had no time to prepare before he grabbed my ankles and pulled them over my head.

  “Grab your legs,” he ordered.

  I did as I was told, thoroughly embarrassed as I flashed the entire dinner party my panties. He held my ankles—pushing me back to roll my bottom upwards. The humiliation was tortured—positioned like he’d diaper me.

  The spank came quick. I nearly let go of my knees.

  God only knew what he’d do if my thighs opened and offered my slit to him.

  He yanked my panties away, forcing them into my hands as I held my legs up for him. My pussy and bottom exposed to the room.

  The first spank hurt.

  I yelped. He frowned.

  “Quiet.” He struck again. My gasp wooshed out from my lungs. “You aren’t in Duchess. Stay silent unless you want the entire restaurant to know that you’re getting spanked.”

  Silence was easy.

  My words choked over the tears, and only my breath shuddered out as his palm slapped my skin. Ten hard strikes in a row. No loving caresses between the spanks, no probing fingers inside me, testing my wetness.

  Just a punishment for displeasing him. For fucking up.

  For ruining everything.

  My legs winced with every strike, but the position was worse than the pain. Completely exposed. Vulnerable. Reduced to a quintessential little girl positioning that only revealed how completely inexperienced and confused I was.

  I crumbled. He released me after ten harsh spanks, but I only dropped my legs. I didn’t slide from the table.

  The sobs were heavy, ugly, and consumed my entire body.

  That was it. Shannon was right. Anthony knew this wouldn’t work out. He was too experienced to waste his time teaching me things that should have been instinctual. Sex was the only thing I did to please him, and I’d bitten him hard enough to hurt.

  I couldn’t lose him.

  Without Anthony, I had nothing. No music. No college. No career.

  Nothing but guilt and remorse and failure…

  “Morgan.” Anthony pulled me up. I sat on the table, unable to hide my tears. I didn’t have much control over my life anymore, but at least I knew when everything was destroyed.

  “Pet, look at me.” Anthony’s voice so
ftened. “It’s okay.”

  I nearly hyperventilated. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  My reaction startled them all. Anthony leaned in close, rubbing my tears away with his thumb. “I’m not angry with you, pet. You were punished. It’s done. Forgiven. It’s over now.”

  Over.

  The punishment was over, but so was everything else.

  I cried harder.

  I once thought a spanking had embarrassed me. The uncontrollable sobbing was worse than mortifying. It shamed me. Worried the others. Reduced me into a shivering mess of crazy and regret.

  Anthony couldn’t soothe me. He shrugged as Simone approached. Her offered glass of wine wouldn’t help. I couldn’t shake my head, but if I tasted anything else, I’d be sick.

  He shook his head. Made a joke. “I think she’s had enough to drink, Simone.”

  She didn’t believe him and brought me water instead. This time, she didn’t give me a choice and pressed it to my lips. I guzzled from the offered goblet and hiccuped before I could swallow even a bit.

  The coldness swirled with the nausea in my stomach.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  Anthony pulled me close. “Morgan, listen to me. You made a mistake. That’s what happens. Don’t be frightened.” He smiled, kissing my forehead. “Don’t forget that I like punishing you. I’ll invent reasons to give you a spanking.”

  “I wanted…” The words broke. “To be good…”

  “You were bound to make a mistake. You can’t be perfect forever.”

  “I need to be.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  We were talking two different things.

  I closed my eyes. I liked what he offered. A spanking for a mistake, and a bruised bottom exchanged for absolute forgiveness. No languishing for hours, bugging a professor about a retest. No writing letter after letter to scholarship committees begging for leniency. No torturing myself for a year after the disastrous concert.

  Anthony’s way made sense. A spanking was degrading, but so was failing out of school and working in a cafe.

  “Morgan, tell me what’s wrong.” He ensured no one else heard. “All these tears aren’t from a spanking. You haven’t been yourself for days.”