“I want you to stay in this position micah and lift your ass higher. I lost a little bit when I pulled out, but keeping your ass in the air for a spell will help with sperm motility,” He commented while tenderly removing the rope and belt from around my limbs.
i formed a small smile. “Sperm motility”? Who says that?
Once finished, He rose from the bed and went to the bathroom. Without making a sound, i remained in the position as instructed for the next fifteen minutes until my Master returned and pulled me down alongside Him.
He kissed my lips and forehead softly as He lowered my body on top of His rigid chest. i could smell and taste myself on His lips.
“you may speak freely, micah.”
“That was amazing, Sir,” i replied, beaming.
my Master laughed. “I’d say so. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and My dick grow harder. Both are needed for baby-making.”
i chuckled at His comment.
He had a way with words. He caressed both my wedding band and engagement ring before linking His fingers with mine.
With my free hand, i fiddled with the thin silver necklace around my neck. my collar.
my heart fluttered.
“I’ve only been home a few hours, but I think this ‘welcome back’ sealed the deal. If it hasn’t and we have to try this every single night for the rest of the month, I’m all for it. I will get you pregnant.”
“i have no doubt about that, Sir,” i said, giggling.
The Meet and Greet
Late Summer 2009
her Master
It was one hell of a Saturday night. A five-car pileup on the FDR Drive had My ER running at a frenetic pace. After the shit I endured today, I needed to take the edge off.
My nose and throat burned from the carbonation and raw ginger of My hand-mixed ginger ale. I’d been at Spanxxx for about an hour and on My third drink; I’d have a good buzz if the club allowed alcohol, but liquor and play don’t mix. That’s how it’d been here since they opened their doors thirty years ago. It was the policy at most fetish events, but at private parties, the rules were dependent on the host. C’est la vie.
The few men sitting near Me halted their conversation and not so discreetly turned toward the door. My gaze followed theirs. I scanned the crowd to see what they were focused on when My eyes fixated on her.
she looked stunning standing at the entrance of the club, assisting her female companion with the hem of her skirt. I continued to follow the ladies with My eyes, pausing while they offered their identification to the bouncer.
Men and women gawked at the pair as they moved through the club. I’m pretty sure they all saw what I saw: a submissive looking for a home.
How did I know she was a sub? she didn’t make direct eye contact with anyone, she kept her gaze constantly fixed ahead, and she only spoke to her companion. I could be completely wrong in My assumption, but she didn’t strike Me as a Domme. I didn’t get that vibe based on what I’d witnessed thus far.
I had been in the scene for a while, so I could usually tell. When Your friends consisted of a variety of lifestyle and pro-Dommes, You picked up a thing or two. It might sound pretentious, but it was the truth. In addition, in My profession, I had to be adept at reading people. I considered it a gift and a curse.
Worst-case scenario, I’d find out during the auction if My instincts were on point. I assumed that’s why she was here, since tonight’s featured event was a sub/slave auction.
I casually took another sip of My drink and wondered if she would prove to be a worthy challenge.
Was she merely a submissive, or was she a slave? I sincerely hoped the former. Not that I found anything wrong with slaves; I just didn’t have an interest in dictating someone’s life twenty-four seven. In many instances, I would prefer My girl be left up to her own devices.
I would never knock anyone for the dynamic they chose. However, My nature was to lead, not lord over, so My girl would have to have a life and interests of her own. Taking a slave was never what I considered an ideal arrangement. But before I got ahead of Myself planning for the future, I needed to find out on what side of the line My pretty girl stood.
I continued to watch her while I fiddled with the ice in My empty glass. I don’t think I could have taken My eyes off her if I wanted to. The fitted pink blazer she wore barely concealed her corset, which pushed her breasts up in a way that made Me shift in My seat. My gaze traveled higher to her unadorned neck. The dim light of the club made her skin glow.
she licked her utterly sinful-looking lips. I licked My lips as well.
her dark hair was pulled away from her face in a tight chignon. Due to the lighting, I couldn’t tell if the color was black or dark brown, but from where I was sitting, it seemed to have a wavy texture. her smoky eye makeup gave her an air of mystery and her pouty gloss-covered lips were turned down in a frown.
In that moment, I wanted to see her smile. A face like that should never have a frown upon it.
Shit, she was gorgeous, and not in that ostentatious way that I’d been accustomed to.
she wasn’t someone I’d normally appraise, but she captivated Me the moment she stepped through the club doors. I hadn’t dated many women of color, and by “dated” I mean courted. I had a few romps in the hay but nothing significant or lasting.
When it came to dating, I hadn’t expanded My horizons. My track record consisted mostly of thin brunettes and a few blondes. Occasionally, a redhead would thrill Me, but this woman . . . she was different from the women I usually found attractive. Aside from her physical differences, she possessed a unique style that I found charming.
A smiled curved My lips as I continued to observe her—the woman was sexy as hell. I willed the beautiful vision before Me to bend over. And as if she heard My silent request, she tucked her purse under her arm and bent at the waist to adjust her garter belt and sheer black thigh-highs. A pair of ruffled panties that matched the color of her blazer peeked out from underneath the short skirt she wore. My mouth watered as My eyes scanned the entire length of her body all the way down to her stiletto-clad feet.
she was petite with an hourglass figure, and reminded Me of a classic pinup: neither rail thin nor too big. her body was what wet dreams were made of. If I were to take a guess, her height hovered somewhere around five-foot-three.
her angelic face hardened when she was seized by a coughing fit. Apparently, the cigarette smoke of nearby patrons was bothersome. The air-conditioning in Spanxxx was flowing comfortably but the air-filtration system didn’t seem to be aiding the cocoa-colored beauty.
she continued to cough while her companion leaned over her and rubbed her back. From My observation, it looked as if her companion was asking if she was okay. Despite her rich skin tone, the coughing fit seemed to redden her face.
The beauty’s companion left her alone and made a quick trip to the bar. her companion stood next to Me, squeezing in between a few patrons, and requested a bottle of water. The bartender grabbed a bottle from behind the bar and handed it to the woman. she handed the bartender what looked to be two dollar bills, grabbed the water, and headed back to the gorgeous vision. The beauty accepted the offering and chugged the water.
As I watched her, My dick stirred in My pants. What can I say? I was turned on watching those full lips wrap around the bottle.
Oh, to be that bottle . . .
micah
my week had been hellish with prepping for the new exhibit and all the other things my boss threw my way. i swear Joan Holloway must have believed i had been put on this earth to serve her.
i was no stranger to hard work. my job as an assistant registrar kept me in high-pressure situations, but managing projects, staff, and her craziness had gotten to me. Thank God for kisa and her horny, crunchy granola-eating self. For months she’d flooded my email with invitation-only fetish events. i guess she considered my dating life to be pathetic and worried that i’d end up as a shut-in with an assortment of vibr
ators and cats to pass the time.
kisa, that girl . . . i absolutely love her to death, but good grief, her legs spread like butter. Many a Dom has had her Country Crock. Tonight, she was about getting laid, and i was about letting loose with a new friend and a little play.
Spanxxx was hosting a sub/slave auction, and kisa had guilted me into signing up after she learned i had been spending most nights alone drinking wine like it was going out of style. Private collectors can be some of the most unbearable prima donnas. i’m not Olivia Pope; i can’t work miracles. Coordinating loans from overseas institutions, working for a curator who had a habit of throwing everything but the kitchen sink my way, and handling an overstressed staff had me not only drinking more than usual, but i also used my rescue inhaler twice this week. In the past, even in the midst of high-stress situations, i hardly touched the thing. miss holistic, yoga guru, said i needed to make room for meditation in my life, that maybe it’d help get my asthma under control. But before kisa lead me on a path to Zen, i figured i should make an appointment with my doctor for a checkup.
Monday. Real-life concerns could wait until Monday.
It was Saturday night, and fun was on the agenda. The controlled environment of the club ensured that myself and other subs and slaves were treated with respect and care. If a Dom or Domme, whatever the case may be, was interested, They’d bid to have us for the duration of the event. There would be time to mingle beforehand, and then after the winning bid, we’d go into one of the playrooms. . . .
i’d been around the scene since my early twenties, so now at thirty, i’d pretty much seen and had it all. A great deal of men call themselves Dominants but believe that D/s is only limited to the bedroom. In my opinion, a little bit of rough sex or some sort of degradation does not make one Dominant. Too many equate being domineering with being Dominant. The two aren’t synonymous. Those “bedroom Doms” can take a hike. i’m not a slut, whore, tramp, bitch, cum dumpster, or any of those other slurs these “bedroom Dominants” hurl at submissive women in a poor attempt to assert power.
There’s only so many frogs a girl can kiss, so tonight was all about blowing off steam. i went to Spanxxx with zero expectations. Sure, my long-term goal was to find the right Dom, but i’d rather wait for something real. i’m no doormat and have few self-esteem issues; if you feel the need to try and belittle me to get your rocks off, i am not the one for you.
i looked around the club, trying to make mental note of who might be worth a few minutes of my time; i don’t accept mediocrity when it comes to my Men, and wasted time is my only regret in life. i’m also a workhorse type and expect the same in a Dom, but i’ve run into far too many damaged and domineering jerks instead of ambitious, refined Gentlemen.
i’ll readily admit that i am a submissive to anyone who dares to ask, but being submissive doesn’t equate to being weak. i’m not some feeble woman who gets off on being demeaned. For me, being submissive meant taking care of my Man’s needs in every capacity. It meant bending to His will, and His will only. He would lead and i would follow. i would be perfectly content in my role when it came to pleasing Him, and the Man who captured my heart would be an Alpha down to His core. i would be His servant, His lover, His friend, His everything. He would be my Guide, my Protector, my Confidante, my Love. He would not demand my respect, He would earn it. He would love me for my mind. He would see beauty in both my strengths and weaknesses and encourage me to be the best version of myself. So you see, this lifestyle went well beyond spankings and tying me to a headboard.
After tucking my ID back into my clutch and adjusting my garters, my lungs were seized by the smoke that hung in the air. The club didn’t allow alcohol, but smoking was A-OK. i would have made some smartass comment to kisa if my lungs were working.
A new law had recently been passed that banned smoking in bars and clubs, but it wouldn’t go into effect for another month. Until then, i would suffer. After i experienced a coughing fit that damn near brought me to my knees, kisa handed me bottle of water.
i drank quickly, hoping it would help. my coughing stopped long enough for me get my inhaler out of my clutch. Two quick puffs usually helped alleviate the constriction in my chest. i felt a bit overheated so i removed my blazer and tucked it under my arm along with my clutch.
kisa rubbed circles over my bare shoulders. her hand was still cool from the water bottle and was a welcome relief from the steroid hotly racing through my system. “you gonna be okay?”
i nodded and rasped out, “i’m fine. Go have fun. i’m probably gonna go sit at the bar.”
she wrapped her arm around my shoulders, giving me a squeeze before whispering in my ear, “i love you. i’ll be just over there.” she pointed to the plush sofas where a group had congregated.
“All right. Go get ’em.”
kisa was gone before i could utter another word.
i took a few moments to get my bearings before i decided it was time for me to scope out the scene as well. As i made my way through the crowd, i felt a clammy hand grip my elbow. The guy who stopped me had a cigarette dangling from the corner of his lips. i immediately removed his hand before turning my nose up and continuing on my path toward the bar.
i was already trying desperately to get my breathing back on track. The last thing i wanted was to start a discussion with a human chimney. In another attempt to initiate conversation, a handsome, clean-cut guy asked if he could buy me a drink. i told him maybe later, before exchanging quick pleasantries. i figured if he was truly interested in getting to know me, he’d put in a bid when the auction started. i hoped the human chimney got the hint—smoking was one of those things that immediately turned me off.
Most people chose to congregate near the bar to get conversation going or to pull up a stool and take in their surroundings. i was hoping for some decent conversation before the auction began. Wouldn’t you know, just before i reached the bar, some tool was bold enough to grab my ass? i froze for a moment in disbelief that someone would be so blatantly disrespectful. i whirled around to face my assailant before stepping on his toe with the heel of my stiletto. The man winced as my heel dug into the leather of his shoe. So you want to palm my ass? That’ll teach you to be touchy-feely. i apologized to the stranger with a sly smirk before walking away. What an asshole. No wonder i don’t take these guys seriously. Who violates a woman’s personal space like that? It’s the antithesis of the behavior a Dom should display.
Where the hell did kisa disappear to?
her Master
she moved through the crowd with an air of grace, pausing briefly to speak with men who were momentarily successful in gaining her attention; however, she seemed disinterested in what most of them had to say.
One guy learned the hard way to look but don’t touch. He forcefully grabbed her ass, and the little vixen ground her heel into his foot, causing him to flinch in pain.
What a good girl. No man has the right to touch you without your permission. she was feisty—I liked that.
I was ready to pounce in case he decided to retaliate.
As she moved closer to the bar, and by default Me, her balance wavered. she slowed her approach and began coughing again. her coughs turned to wheezing and gasps before she could take another step.
I stood. When her eyes met Mine, I saw panic in her features.
I closed the distance between us and offered My assistance. “Hey, are you okay?”
she didn’t respond, but instead began rummaging through her purse.
Of course, I immediately realized she was likely looking for her inhaler.
“Whatever you do, sweetheart, don’t panic. Here, let Me help,” I said, taking her purse. I was in a better position to find the goddamn thing. “I saw you with an asthma pump a bit ago. Are you a chronic asthmatic?” I asked, locating the pump.
I handed her the inhaler and she took a few quick puffs and as deep a breath as she could before grounding out the words “Can’t breathe.” her eyes glazed and
her legs started to give. I dropped the purse and quickly grabbed her just before she collapsed.
Oh shit. This was not happening.
No. No. No.
Fuck.
micah
my legs buckled and my blazer fell from my grasp. Before my body met the floor, a pair of muscled arms grabbed hold of me. The voice attached to the arms shouted at the bartender, “Call 911. We’ve got an emergency here!”
Nearby patrons hurled questions our way. “Is she dying?” “Does she need CPR?” “What’s wrong with her?”
The Stranger attached to the pair of strong arms ignored all their questions and gently lowered me to the floor as a small crowd gathered. He held my head in His lap as tears rolled down my cheeks.
i continued to wheeze, struggling for every little bit of air.
i was going to die on the floor of a fetish club, but all i kept thinking was, Where the hell is kisa?
“Shh. Relax, sweetheart,” He murmured as He softly stroked my hair. “Relax.”
He tried His best to soothe me by speaking calmly. “From what I gather, you’re experiencing an asthma attack. Panicking will only exacerbate your symptoms, and that could be fatal.”
i was so damn scared. my heart felt as if it were going to pop out of my chest. He held His fingers against my neck. i assumed He was monitoring my heart rate.
“I need you to relax and try your best to breathe through your mouth. Slow and steady. Short breaths.”
i concentrated on His voice and stared at His lips to keep me calm. It was the only thing i had at the moment. my mind raced with a thousand different thoughts: Where the hell is kisa? Why does this Stranger smell so damn good? Why am i laying on this nasty-ass floor? Why does He have such nice lips?
He was talking, and i had tuned out most of what He was saying but i continued to watch His lips move.
Despite my mind running a mile a minute, i followed His instructions and took short breaths. Breathing wasn’t as difficult but it was still an effort. What i was experiencing was easily the scariest moment of my life. my chest ached and my throat felt arid and tight.
The Sweetest Taboo: An Unconventional Romance Page 2