Training Her Curves - Chicago (A BBW Billionaire Domination and Submission Romance)

by Christa Wick

  "Meringue." A small wave of noise from the crowd rolled over us as I answered, reminding me we were not alone. Tension spread back through my muscles and I tightened against him.

  "You're not afraid of me," he repeated. Bending his neck, he brushed his cheek against mine.

  Hearing the soft whisper of flesh on flesh and feeling the heat of his breath against my ear, I slowly relaxed. He drew the strap tight and then his pinkie finger tested the material's give. I didn't know whether he did that to make sure I couldn't escape or to confirm that my circulation would not be cut off.

  Pushing more of his weight against me, he captured my left hand and drew it up to the other wrist cuff. Again, he waited, letting me adjust to the fact I would soon lose my ability to free my other hand from its restraint.

  I caught my bottom lip between my teeth, worrying the flesh as I started to squirm. His lips found my ear again, shushing me.

  "You're not giving in so quickly, Alexa." The hint of his teeth against the curve of my jaw made my chest swell, and then he bit lightly. "I won't allow you to disappoint yourself."

  He pulled the other strap then stepped back a few inches. His hands settled on my hips as he studied the top swell of my breasts. Try as I did to tame them, they heaved, rising and falling rapidly as my hips made almost imperceptible thrusts.

  I doubted the crowd could see those thrusts, but I knew he felt them. His pupils pulsed with each forward bounce of my pelvis. He closed his eyes and his tongue came out to stroke the center of his top lip.

  "You're going to make me break my rules," he rasped. "Aren't you?"

  "No," I whispered, not knowing what his rules were, what I had done to challenge them or the punishment for doing so.

  His fingers surfed to the clasps at the front of the corset. His eyes opened as he slowly undid each hook. Even as more and more of my flesh came into view, I forgot about the crowd. I didn't hear Rick moving quietly around the stage with his camera.

  Only the man in front of me existed.

  The corset dropped to the ground. His foot swept it aside and then he cupped my breasts. Like the rest of me, they were heavy and round, but his hands easily covered their bottom half. He squeezed, first the pale swollen flesh and then he zeroed in on the hardware piercing the red pout of my nipples and lightly tugged.

  Heaven help me, but I whimpered, the sound as wet and aroused as my dancing cunt.

  "You are," he asserted, his gaze hot as he looked into my eyes. "At least one of my rules..."

  He pressed into me, his mouth finding mine. He gnawed gently at my bottom lip, teasing it open so he could slide his tongue in as he tugged more forcefully at the nipple rings. His tongue pushed deep. My hips bobbed more erratically.

  Whispers from the crowd slithered across the stage. The tone sounded surprised. Did he really have a routine and had the audience realized this was a departure?

  Breaking the kiss, he pulled back enough that he could look in my eyes. "Who am I, Alexa?"

  "Master," I answered to the soft murmur of approval from those beyond the stage.

  "Whose master?" he pressed.

  The answer stalled at the tip of my tongue. I blinked. Wonder twisted in my chest at the tears suddenly threatening to escape. Had I really been about to say he was my master? And how the hell had he so quickly brought me to the edge of forgetting who I was?

  "I'm not a submissive," I answered.

  More noise from the shadows beyond the stage. My bottom lip started to quiver. I didn't want to embarrass the man in front of me, especially while he had me helplessly strapped to the cross.

  Looking at my breast, he fingered its nipple ring. His teeth worked his bottom lip as if deciding something and then he looked up at me with those mesmerizing eyes fringed by black lashes.

  "You are a submissive," he gently corrected. A little lift of the ring and then his finger skimmed my flesh to one of the gloomier tattoos inked into my skin.

  A woman's head done up in the Mexican Day of the Dead style. Beautiful but untouchable. Decayed but equally pure. She was a talisman of sorts, my hand frequently searching for the spot on my arm when something distressed me. But for the cuffs around my wrists, I would have been touching her that very second.

  "A submissive," he repeated. Leaning in, he spoke directly into my ear, his voice so low that I didn't think anyone else could hear him. "But too afraid of your self-destructive streak to admit it."

  Carefully, he took the rings from my nipples. The cheap jewelry disappeared into a fold in his pants and then he reached along the frame of the cross and removed something. Soft slaps to my breasts startled me even though I saw them coming. The nipples puckered tightly, the tips fat and hard.

  He attached a clamp to one, his eyes on my face as he turned the screw. He attached the second clamp to the other nipple then pressed into me, his cheek against mine, one strong hand firmly cupping my pussy through the panties.

  "Would you be this wet if you weren't a submissive?" He whispered the question, hard squeezes scattered among the syllables to emphasize his point.

  His free hand twisted in my hair, forcing my eyes in his direction. Still manipulating me below, he chewed at my lips as he taunted me. "I can see by your pupils and the way you're breathing that you're on the edge of coming, Alexa."

  Casting my gaze down, I remained silent, not brash enough to risk a lie and too overwhelmed to admit the truth. He did have me right at the edge, my cunt squeezing around nothing as my hips flexed forward.

  A hard slap landed against the sensitive swell of my mound to jerk my eyes upward.

  "Wondering what rule I broke?"

  The crowd's reaction had told me, or so I thought. Ignoring the sting between my legs, I managed a short answer. "You kissed me."

  A brief smile stretched his lower lip. "That's right. I don't kiss my subs the first time I play with them."

  Subs...

  Plural, I noted as he knelt at my feet to secure my ankles with the straps.

  Play...

  Another word that made me uncomfortable. Too casual. I might have enough tattoos to entirely cover a small woman, and the piercings to match. But I was anything but casual, especially when it came to sex.

  He stood and forced the cross to tilt until it rested horizontal atop the cage, his strength making sure the cross and my body came to a slow stop and not a harsh landing. He slid a locking bar in place then unhooked another instrument from among those secured to the frame. I heard the metallic click as it separated from the cross but couldn't see it, even when I turned my head.

  I could see him, though, looking down at me, studying my face in a way that made me more uncomfortable than I had been while he had removed the corset in front of a hundred or more masked strangers.

  "What part of my statement bothered you, Alexa?"

  Drop dead gorgeous and perceptive as hell, the combination surprised me. I shook my head. Nothing in the contract said I had to tell the truth. He rewarded my lie with a lifted brow and a flash of the object he had pulled from the frame.

  A small metal wand narrowed at the tip.

  I swallowed roughly. The words of the contract rewound through my head. Had they actually meant I might be whipped?

  "How about I heat those lovely thighs before repeating the question?" Running the tip of the wand across my lower belly, he watched the way my body moved in anticipation of what came next.

  Certain my safe word would escape if I so much as relaxed my jaw, I said nothing. He bounced the wand's tip against my inner thigh, fast and light at first. His other hand cupped my mound, obscuring my view of the wand and distracting me from the building sting of its tip as he squeezed rhythmically at my pussy.

  Repositioning his grip on the wand, he switched thighs. With his index and middle finger forming a hard line, he rubbed over the fabric shielding my clit from the audience. I couldn't think about the thin piece of metal or its sharp bite when he rubbed me like that. I could only concentrate on not moaning -
- not in front of him and certainly not with the audience's rapt attention fixed on my squirming hips.

  I bit at my lips, clenched my fists, fought the release that butted insistently against the last of my control. I would not, I promised, use my safe word. Nor would I climax for him.

  The caning ceased. With just the tip of the wand, he traced the bottom of my underwear.

  "Next time I'll use leather tails," he warned as he skimmed over the center panel of cloth. "Your legs will be spread much, much wider and this..."

  He grabbed the bottom closure and tugged lightly to force the snap open. "This will be bare to my whip -- and my tongue."

  The groan I'd been fighting like hell to restrain escaped. Victory danced in his eyes as he stored the wand and brought the cross upright. Very gently, he undid the clamp around my left nipple. His head dipped, his whole body waiting until I gasped as the numbness caused by the clamp evaporated and I felt the sweet ache of blood flooding back to the hard tip of my breast.

  His mouth covered the nub and he gently sucked.

  "Stop," I whispered, my labia and thighs clenching wildly. I had made my own rules on the fly -- no coming and no using my safe word, so I had to find some other way to make the sweet torment cease.

  "Saying 'stop' isn't enough, Alexa." He removed the other clamp then lightly slapped at the breast to hurry the flow of blood back into its nipple. A quiver rolled through me as his mouth latched onto the nub, nothing sweet or gentle with his sucking the second time.

  My arms pulled at the restraints. I wanted to be free, wanted to race back to the room with my coat and run far, far away from the sharp need that pricked my skin and twisted my tongue until I could make no sound other than lustful moans as he continued to suck and lick at the nipple.

  He moved until he stood in front of me, his powerful body shielding my most private area from the audience. Burying his face against my neck, he gave a stern squeeze of my mound, the continuing pressure just enough to keep my release at bay.

  "I won't let you come with this panel closed, Alexa," he rasped between sharp kisses to my throat.

  He wanted me exposed, entirely, and despite the contract saying I only had to be topless.

  Of course, nothing in all that paper and ink said I would be on the verge of wildly orgasming from his skilled touch. This was a deal between him and me, not the club or the company that might hire me as their spokesmodel.

  "Do you want to come, Alexa?" Somewhere in the span of a second, the rasp had disappeared from his voice, his tone calm and thoroughly in command. "You know what you have to say."

  "Please," I begged in a soft whine as he continued to manipulate my flesh, drawing me close to the edge of release before shoving it just out of reach.

  "More than that, Alexa," he teased, his fingertips pinching the panel's flap.

  "Please, Master."

  The snaps popped as I capitulated. His fingers found me, wet and twisting, tight with my need. They penetrated my cunt as his thumb, slick with my juices, slid between my labia to press against my clit. His other hand tangled in my hair to hold my head turned, my throat exposed to his bruising kisses as his fingers fucked deeper and thicker into me.

  I closed my eyes, blotting out the masked faces and the camera's flash as I shuddered and came. His touch slowed then stopped. The only sounds I could hear were my own -- small whimpers, heavy breathing and the pounding pulse of blood through my body.

  "Look at me."

  Reluctantly, I obeyed. I expected a smug look on his face. Instead, he offered smoldering arousal, his tanned cheeks lightly flushed, the eyes intense and the nostrils flared as he took deep, controlled breaths.

  "Out," he ordered, looking over his shoulder at the crowd and gesturing toward the double doors with his chin. "Go have your own fun."

  The soft scuffle of chairs told me the audience was obeying his command. I wouldn't have known otherwise because I dropped my gaze as soon as he looked away from me. Now that I didn't have his hands possessing my body, I was all too aware of my state of undress and the embarrassingly wanton heat I had displayed before strangers.

  None of the words in the contract had led me to believe I would be engaging in a live sex act. But that, more or less, was what I had just done. And I had practically begged for that last bit, with his fingers thrusting in me, his mouth sucking at my nipples and the bottom panel of my panties open to give at least a few of the audience members a full view.

  "You, too, Rick," the house master growled as another flash of light told me that Wells had not followed the audience out. "She's for me, and me alone."

  What the hell?

  I waited, wondering just what he had meant by that. He looked at me, his lips rolling wetly together before he shrugged. "That's what the contract said, right? You only had to interact with a house slave and the house master."

  I nodded, uncertain whether I should be disappointed or relieved. He wasn't being proprietary, just protective of the club.

  "One moment before I release you," he said. He stepped off the stage, followed Wells to the double doors then locked them after the photographer left. Returning to the stage, he reached beneath it and retrieved a small bag.

  My blood pressure spiked as I realized just how alone I was with him -- the doors locked. I had no idea what the bag contained or whether anyone in the club could hear me if I cried for help.

  Bending down a second time, he pulled out another bag.

  My duffel!

  Damn - I'd never been so happy to see that battered pink canvas in my life.

  I watched him jog onto the stage and place the small bag at my feet. My elation turned to confusion a second later as he walked the other over to the side of the stage and dropped it next to a reclining couch by the stage curtains.

  Returning, he ignored the little hand jiggle I did, the gesture impatiently indicating I wanted him to uncuff my wrists. Instead, he gripped the bottom of the frame and returned me to a horizontal position. His hand played along the side of the cross and lights came on overhead, revealing a mirror.

  "The audition is over--" I started.

  "Of course it is." He grinned as he pulled a fluffy white towel from his bag. "But you have a hell of a lot of adrenaline running through this luscious body right now, baby doll. It would be reckless of me to let you stand on your own until you settle down."

  Taking the towel, he reached between my legs and began drying my thighs. He kept his gaze on my face. I tried to ignore the intensity of his eyes by looking up. The mirror above mocked me. I could see his hand between my thighs, see the red flush of my skin and the swollen, pouty nipples that had begun to ache from the absence of his mouth.

  Resting the towel on his shoulder, he grabbed a bottle of something from the bag. Squirting liquid onto his palm, he hooked my attention in the mirror and warned me, "This will sting a little at first, but you won't have any marks from the wand. Okay?"

  I nodded, not trusting my voice. His hands landed on my thigh. I tensed. The promised sting spread across my skin, but then he began to massage my flesh. I don't know if the rubbing helped or just distracted me.

  Seriously distracted me...

  Fresh arousal built as his fingertips danced at the top of my thighs. Grinning up at my reflection, he ran his index finger between my lower lips, leaving a sharp line of the liquid along the spine of my clit before curling it under the hood and manipulating the pearl tucked inside with gentle circles.

  I gasped. My hands fisted. My hips lifted. But I managed evict a weak protest. "The wand didn't touch me there."

  "No," he agreed. "But it feels good, doesn't it?"

  I shook my head, my lips mashing together to keep me from blurting the truth about just how good it felt. The liquid alternated between hot and cool and he knew just how to stroke that small nub to obtain maximum pleasure.

  "Never lie to your Dom, Alexa."

  "You're not my--" I stopped as he loomed over me, his hand continuing to manipulate my pu
ssy.

  Bringing his face to mine, he sucked at my bottom lip. Knotting his free hand in my hair, he thrust his tongue into my mouth and took curling licks as he roughly cupped and massaged my pussy. A second later, he broke the kiss to nuzzle my ear, taunting me with the fact that I just had to say one little word and he would stop immediately.

  "Say it, Alexa." He sucked at my neck, kissed the edges of my mouth, repeated the challenge as he brought me closer and closer to another climax.

  I struggled against the restraints, trying to pull back from the sensations ravaging my body just long enough to squeeze the word out. When had I ever ached this much for a man's touch?

  Never -- not once.

  My hips crested, lifted as high as the restraints would allow. My lips parted and I exhaled with a shuddering moan. I could feel my release waiting, gasping, greedy for just one more stroke...

  He stopped. The smug smile I had expected earlier finally surfaced.

  "Still think I'm not the Dom for you, baby doll?"

  Moving to my side, he gingerly snapped the panel on my panties shut and set the cross upright. He dropped down and undid my ankles. He brought my thighs together, his strong hands gripping my legs until the shaking in them subsided.

  He rose and pressed against me as he reached up to free both wrists.

  "Wrap your arms around my shoulders," he commanded. "I want to make sure your legs are working."

  "I'm fine," I insisted, placing my hands on my hips.

  Smirking, he stepped back unexpectedly. I flailed forward, arms swinging as my traitorous legs decided to prove him right. He dipped, catching me beneath the arms and boosting me up, holding me close as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

  "Thank--" Feeling him tense against me, I remembered his earlier admonition at the bar. He didn't want my thanks. What he did want wasn't clear, but there had been nothing ambiguous in his tone when he told me to never thank him.

  "Good, you remembered." Lightly, he pecked my cheek in chaste reward. "Sometimes what I tell you is merely for control. Other times, it's for your safety."