BDSM Mega Boxed Set

by Anita Lawless, C. J. Sneere, Roxxy Meyer

  He puts down some change for a cup of coffee. “I was out of town. Sorry I missed you.”

  “No, I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner.” I put my hand on top of his. “I should’ve let you explain.”

  He looks into my eyes and my heart starts to do that jack rabbit thing.

  “Will you let me explain now?” His fingers skim up my hand to my wrist and then back down, raising goose bumps and tickling a little.

  “Felicia and Jeanie told me a lot last night.” His face tenses, as if he thinks I’m blowing him off, so I quickly add, “But, yeah, I’m listening. It’s quiet today.” I look at the front of the shop, which is empty, and only one regular lingers near the back with his newspaper. “Go for it.”

  He tells me Felicia filled him in on most of our conversation about an hour ago. Then he shrugs, looks uncomfortable before he starts to explain, “She told me how worried she was about you working such long hours while going to college. How Jeanie found you sleeping in the bathtub and thought you were gonna drown.”

  I chuckle at that. “Those two always exaggerate.”

  He smiles. “So I wanted to help you out. You helped me out in high school. I figured now I’ve got some spare cash I could return the favor. And Felicia said you’re too proud to just take the money, so we’d have to make it look like a real job and all.”

  “You are a trio of schemers.” I shake my head as I refill his coffee.

  “I promise we really had your best interests in mind,” he says before taking a sip. “Sorry that we lied to you, pissed you off.”

  I reach over the counter to touch his shoulder. “I just tutored you. It’s not like I saved your life. You didn’t owe me anything.”

  He takes my hand and stares deeply into my eyes. “Yes, I did. You saved my ass from flunking, and from my parent’s anger if I had failed. I’d have never gotten into any decent college if it hadn’t been for your help. I mean that.”

  My mouth has gone dry and my face is warm with the blush that creeps into my cheeks. “But I turned you down for dates, wouldn’t hang out with you because I’d labeled you a bad boy…”

  And then it hits me. Shit, I’m doing it again. Labeling people, men, to keep them away. Back in high school, all I wanted was to get out of my small town along with Jeanie and Felicia and make something of myself. I didn’t want to get trapped in a loveless marriage like my mom had, and I didn’t want to get trapped by small town life. So I stayed away from dating much and made getting good grades and into a good college my life. It wasn’t until college I’d started to date what I termed “bad boys,” and I saw how I’d used this to always keep those guys at a distance.

  I realize I looked for guys with traits I could never ultimately live with over the long haul, making sure no relationship had the potential to last so I’d never get in too deep, lose control.

  But with Rider, I didn’t seek him out. He came to me via my two best friends, and he really was the anti-thesis of all those guys I’d chosen. Oh, sure, he had the tats and many would label him as I had on first meeting him, but he was more than some hasty judgment I’d made. He was nice guy who cared about me.

  “We all make judgments,” he said, bringing me back to present and my last words. “I’m just glad I proved you wrong.” His smile is wide and Cheshire-like.

  “So you own the club?” I decide to change the subject.

  He looks sheepish as he takes a swig of coffee. “Yeah, I guess that was another lie, too.” He runs a hand down his face. “My uncle died about a year ago and willed it to me, if you can believe that.” He chuckles. “And that’s true, which I can prove. Anyway, he kind of took me in after my parents died and he left everything to me. So that’s why I was in Jeanie’s business admin class. I was learning how to run my newly inherited business.”

  “Wow. Life is weird, huh?” I put our conversation on hold long enough to serve some customers who wander in then quickly return. “So you’re not a dom?”

  “Like I told you, I’m a switch.” He winks.

  I feel heat creep into my cheeks again and my stomach is doing that dastardly butterfly thing again. But then a sobering though hits me and I can’t meet his eyes as I say, “I-I can’t work for you anymore.”

  He grips my chin with his free hand and forces me to meet his eyes. “You won’t come back, huh? Not even as a bartender? I could train you. It’s what I did before my uncle died. And I’d pay well. You can’t keep working these long hours and going to college. Your education should be top priority.”

  I grin at him. “Now you sound like a dom, or my dad.”

  He laughs. “Confession?”

  I blink at him, momentarily confused as to whether he wants me to confess or do the confessing. Then I nod as he stands and leans over the counter, gets as close to me as possible and makes the teenagers sitting across from the counter giggle and stare.

  “I thought about you a lot after I left West Haven. In fact, I never forgot you. You remember turning me down for dates. I remember a girl who took the time to help me. One of the only girls in that school who gave me any attention. I love you, Christy, and, if you give me a chance, I think you’ll fall in love with me too.”

  I gulp, nearly choke on my swallowed spit, then hack up a lung. This earns me gentle laughter from Rider and the teens at the front.

  Jonas is just coming back from his lunch break so we have to cut this short, but Rider says he has one last request before he leaves. Will I please hear him out? I say yes and lean even closer while he speaks into my ear.

  “I need a big favor. One of my doms is sick and she and her sub were supposed to do a small performance this weekend in one of the private rooms at the club. I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you fill in with me? Perform with me?”

  I nearly choke again. “Perform sexually in front of other people?” My voice squeaks at the end of my question.

  He chuckles low in his throat. “Sex is optional. What the clients want is to watch a dom do orgasm denial on his sub until the sub is nearly crazy with the need to come.” His words and breath fanning my skin make me unbearably horny. My breath is shallow and my blood pounds in my ears. “You can get yourself off in the end, if you want. I won’t touch you unless you allow it.”

  “I can’t perform that way in front of people!” I hiss. “It would be too embarrassing.”

  “Some subs say that adds to the thrill—the humiliation factor. It’s called humiliation play, actually. I’ve done it, as a sub.” His finger strokes down my cheek and I shiver. “It was wild fun and I’d love to do it with you. As for the people, you could perform in a mask? Less exposure that way.”

  I swallow hard. “Let me think about it.”

  He nods. “I need an answer by tomorrow night, and I’ll pay you, very well.” I go to protest, but he hold up a finger as he leaves his seat. “Don’t say no to the cash either. I’ll just go pay your tuition fees myself if you do.”

  With that, he gives me a far too sexy grin and walks out of Your Daily Cup.

  ***

  With trembling fingers, I phone Rider the next morning to say I’ll accept. He’s pleased, and he details the performance for me.

  The private party is paid for by a man who is one of the founding members of Surrender Inc. He’s more or less retired from all forms of business and social life now—basically a hermit—but he schedules one of these performances every year at one of the Surrender sex clubs. This year, he’s picked Rider’s club, and being that Rider is a newer owner he’s nervous as hell.

  The man, Dominic Sherrard, will be accompanied by a crowd of around twenty. I gasp when he tells me the number, but Rider assures me this is a very small crowd compared to the numbers at some Surrender performances.

  Dom S, as Mr. Sherrard likes to be called, will not touch us or be a part of the performance in any way. And full sexual intercourse is left up to us. After his wife died, Dom S became a voyeur of BDSM scenes but stopped participating in them. He now does this yearl
y performance viewing to pay respects to his dead love, who was once the dom in their relationship and he the sub. However, when she died he assumed her role but never touched another sub and never remarried.

  “That’s kind of sweet,” I say to Rider as we drive to the club. My stomach is flip flopping and my pulse feels like it’s on overdrive as we pull in the parking lot.

  “It is, isn’t it?” He smiles and tells me to wait so he can open my door. “They were pretty devoted to each other.”

  He also informed me that Dom S won’t speak to us, and neither will the rest of the crowd. It’s another quirky tradition of the dom’s.

  Our performance tonight is about orgasm denial. As the sub, I won’t be allowed to climax until Dom S tells Rider it is all right for me to do so. I am to call Rider sir throughout the performance, and he will refer to me as mistress. These are Dom S’s rules.

  We walk into the club wearing trench coats that hide the skimpy outfits we have on. I focus on relaxing and regulating my breathing, trying not to think too much about what’s ahead so I don’t panic.

  Rider leads me to a larger playroom than the one we used during practices. It’s done up in a modern motif, with two waterfalls set in a mirrored wall. The soothing sound of liquid pouring over smooth grey stones calms me. The floor is polished pine and completely bare. In the center of it, a cage is placed. It’s dome shaped and reminds me of a bird cage. One small round table with sex toys sits to its right. It’s white mesh bars are far apart, which will allow Rider to sexually torment me while I’m locked inside.

  I swallow hard, thinking of what lays ahead of me. At least the people haven’t arrived yet. The cluster of dark velvet chairs stand empty. But soon after Rider and I take off our coats, they start to drift in. I try not to look at them as my pulse pounds in my ears and my palms grow sweaty.

  Rider is wearing only a small pair of leather shorts that show off his package nicely and put his gorgeous body on display. I’m wearing only a red bustier, a silky black thong and fishnet stockings finished off by a pair of red stilettos.

  The chair are full by the time Rider locks me in the cage and starts to prepare the beginning of the scene. Our main viewer has arrived and he is wheeled to the front of the velvet chairs by a huge bald man in a black suit. Dom S is a tall man who looks to be about sixty. His silver hair is thin on the top and his upper body is still impressively big, as if he once worked a physically demanding job. I wonder how he came to be so wealthy, but even Rider doesn’t know the answer to that question. He adjusts his wheelchair for a better viewing angle, folds his hands in his lap, and watches us with a serene look on his wrinkled face.

  And so the show begins. Rider has instructed me he’ll be using direct commands and speaking blunt tonight. No gentle edge, and I must obey, unless I am uncomfortable and choose to use our safe words. But I don’t want to disappoint Rider or his rich patron. Since he’s a new club owner and this Dom S is one of the founding members, a good first impression can only be beneficial. And I trust Rider to protect me, make sure I’m safe throughout the scene.

  “Kneel.”

  He issues the first command and I go to my knees on the rich crimson rug that lines the cage’s floor. I place my forehead against its fibers and make sure my butt is pressed against the cage’s thatched bars. My legs are spread wide and the cool air tickles my sex, which already tingles from the scandalous position I find myself in.

  My mask presses into my nose as I adjust myself with Rider’s permission. I’ve worn a feathered half mask tonight to make me more comfortable. It was Rider’s suggestion, and I welcome it because it makes me feel a little less exposed. Although the exposure is oddly exciting, as Rider had said it can be.

  Warm hands reach through the bars and mold to my ass. They massage my cheeks until I have to bite back a low moan. I’m not allowed to show arousal or speak without permission during this play. Now those hands skim between my legs and part them wider.

  “Arch your back deeper,” my dom commands and I do.

  Fingers press into the filmy sheathe between my legs and rub up and down my already wet labia. Then those fingers slip under the wisp of fabric and rip it away in one forceful yank. I bite my bottom lip to keep from gasping.

  Calloused, hot skin explores my exposed pussy, He splays my lips wide with one hand and inserts a finger. His thumb massages my clit. I have to dig my nails into the rug beneath me and focus hard on controlling the pleasure so I don’t come right then and there.

  His touch leaves me briefly and I hold back a sound of disappointment. My face and ears are burning from humiliation, knowing more than a dozen people watch me fight off the need to come while my ass is high in the air. But, strangely, I also find the experience freeing and a little thrill creeps up my spine. I’ve never felt so alive, and the shame gives way to this high. It’s like I’ve entered an altered state of consciousness, of hyper awareness.

  When he returns, he tells me to look at him long enough to see my next instrument of torture. It’s a vibrator that’s skinny near the top, with a curve in its head, and then it grows fatter farther down. Perfect for hitting the g-spot. I press my head back into the rug and he asks me to push my butt closer still to the bars for better access.

  It’s on a lower setting when he touches it to my skin. I exhale slow and long, trying to internalize all my horniness, all my desire, until I’m allowed to cry out and come. He circles my anus with it, lubes both my holes up with a bit of sensation lube that have both tingling like mad in seconds. Then he pokes the vibrator in and out my rectum, barely entering, but teasing enough to make my pussy throb all the harder. My hands fist atop the rug.

  The thrumming toy moves down my perineum, making me squeeze my eyes shut so tight tears squeeze out the corners. Finally I can’t help myself when he slips the toy’s curved head in my seeping pussy, and I let out a moan loud enough for the crowd to hear.

  The toy leaves me and a sharp slap is delivered to my ass. It stings but doesn’t really hurt all that much. However it makes the throbbing in my pussy even stronger. My mind is overtaken by sexual frustration, and if I don’t come soon I’m afraid I’ll blow a blood vessel in my brain.

  After he’s punished me sufficiently for my outburst, the toy returns to tease my flesh, as do his hands. Once more he fucks me with the curved vibrator and I need to come so bad I wish I could scream. The torture continues like this for what feels like hours, until we’re given the command from Dom S to let me orgasm.

  “How do you want me to get you off, Mistress?” my lover asks, signaling permission for me to speak with his words.

  “Fuck me, sir,” I rasp out, not caring if the crowd hears my carnal plea. “Oh, please fuck me, sir.”

  He leaves me long enough to grab a condom from the table and then commands I stand. “Press your ass to the bars, spread your legs, and hold your ankles,” he also demands.

  I do as I am told, spreading my legs as far as I can and pressing my butt tight against my latticed prison. Soon his warm, rough hands sweep over my ass through the bars. He plays with my pussy and tests my wetness. Then I hear a condom wrapper rip and I hold my breath as I wait anxiously to have him deep inside me.

  He teases me with his cock, making me moan and whimper as he slides it up and down my dripping cunt lips, grinds it into my clitoris. I bang my ass backward into the bars, tilt it high and whisper, “Please, I need to come.”

  When he enters me, it is paradise exploding inside of me. I can hear his hot, ragged breath and I know he’s just as turned on as I am. He thrusts slow and steady at first, but I’m so close and needy for release I beg him to fuck me harder. So he grips my hips through the bars and pounds into me. The orgasm explodes deep inside my pelvis and rockets through me, making me cry out loudly and leaving me trembling when I am finished. He follows soon after, and so do the applause of the crowd.

  ***

  “I think we impressed them,” I say to Rider when he walks me to a cab after we’ve had
some drinks with a few members of our audience who have requested our company for cocktails.

  “We did impress them.” His smile is wide and gorgeous. “You were so beautiful and perfect, Christy.” He smoothes some hair from my face and gazes intently at me. “Sure you won’t let me rehire you?”

  I feel the heat creep back into my cheeks. “I couldn’t do that every night for a living. I’m not that brave. It’s different than the kind of stress you find in a courtroom.”

  He nods but looks sad. “How about private one-on-one shows, and then maybe you could bartend for me on the side?” His face goes serious, concerned. “Look, I know how important college is to you. Let me help you have more time to focus on your studies.”

  “Being around you makes it hard to focus,” I confess, leaning into him just as the cabbie honks his horn and tells us to hurry up. “But I’ll take the job, both jobs. You don’t have to pay me to play with you, though. You’ve got other ways to reward me there.”

  His seriousness is wiped away by the return of that sexy grin. “I’m so glad you’ve said yes.” The cabbie honks and curses at us and he frowns. “Now why don’t we tell that guy to screw off and you can spend the night with me?”

  I bite my lip, look up into those deep blue eyes. Rider is everything I want in a partner. I don’t know where this will lead, but I know now I’m falling in love with him.

  “I meant what I said earlier. I love you, and I’m determined you’ll fall in love with me, too,” he says, as if reading my mind.

  I turn to the cabbie and yell, “We changed our mind!” He shakes his head, waves a hand, mutters a curse and drives off.

  “Let’s go inside.” I sink against Rider’s chest and he envelops me in his warm, huge arms. “You’ve got all night to start convincing me.”

  ***

  Surrender To His Game

  Surrender Series Vol. 4

  By Anita Lawless

  BDSM new adult romance with a bad boy dom.