by Kalen Laurel
“Are you okay?” I asked. I looked around the room. Couples began to redirect their attentions to each other. A few were kissing. Some simply held each other, nodding their approval or smiling tenderly.
I turned back to Marie, pulled my hand from between her legs, and reached up to pull some hair out of her eyes and push it back behind her ear.
She was trembling.
“Do you need to get out of here?” I hugged her again. “You were so wonderful.”
“You are amazing,” she said finally, her voice weak and breathy, unable to look at me. “I do need out, though.”
She looked dizzy. “I think I’ve had too much heat.”
And adrenalin, maybe?
“Yes, I’m sure you have,” I told her. “I’ll help you up.”
I pulled myself upright, careful to keep my arm around her for fear she’d faint and slip under the still-bubbling water. I turned to look for her robe, and one of the other men was picking it up off the steps to the hot tub.
“Here,” he said. “Let me help you.”
His wife or partner came over as well. “I’ll hold her robe—Simon, you help him get her out.”
As I lifted Marie out of the water, they wrapped her robe around her and helped support her weight.
“She’s a treasure,” the woman said tenderly as we got her to her feet and began walking her toward the hallway.
* * *
I lay on my side on a mattress in one of the downstairs bedrooms, watching Marie drift in and out of sleep, for probably close to an hour. Finally, her eyes opened and remained that way. She stared upward without speaking for a minute or so.
Then I realized she had tears in her eyes again.
“What’s wrong, Marie?” I asked very quietly, though we were alone in the room.
“I can’t believe I did that,” she said after a while. Her bottom lip trembled and she bit it briefly before taking a deep breath and letting out a little whimper.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have…” I began, but she interrupted me and turned her face to me, smiling sweetly. She reached up and wiped her tears with her fingertips.
“Don’t be silly. That’s not what I mean,” she said. “What you did was wonderful.”
She rolled over on her side as well, facing me. She put her hand on the side of my face and caressed my temple with her thumb briefly before continuing.
“I can’t believe I did that in front of all those people, is all,” she said, finally.
“Isn’t that why you came here?” I asked. I was truly interested in her answer, perhaps because I was still trying to understand why I, myself, was here.
Her expression darkened slightly. “Well…”
She rolled onto her back again, staring up at the ceiling as she continued.
“Not really. I came here because Phillip needed something I can’t give him.” She glanced at me briefly. “He’s a good man…a wonderful husband.”
She looked at the ceiling again. “We have a daughter, and Phillip’s a good dad—patient, loving.” She sighed. “And I love him.”
She didn’t say anything for quite a while. I actually started to think she had fallen asleep again.
“What is it then?” I asked, gently. “What is it you can’t do for him?”
She rolled back on her side and looked at me again. “He desperately wants to be told what to do in the bedroom. He wants me to be stronger. He wants me to demand sex from him, to command him to do things…”
“And you?” I asked. “What do you want?”
She smiled. “What I had tonight?” she answered, touching my nose with her fingertip. “And I know that’s not the way this works, and I know I don’t want to leave Phillip; I just want him to be happy.”
I touched her hair, brushing it back from her face with my fingertips.
“And that will make you happy?” I asked after a few minutes.
“I think so…yes,” she said. “That and remembering what you did for me tonight.”
I contemplated her answer and decided I needed to ask a more difficult question so I could better understand my own predicament. “And what about two months from now or even two years from now?”
“I guess I don’t know,” she said after a long silence. “Could you find Phillip for me—tell him I think I need to go home? I’m really sleepy now.”
“Sure,” I said, and picked up her hand to give it a little squeeze and a kiss on the back. “I really enjoyed our time together, Marie.”
She looked over at me and smiled sweetly. “I’m sorry you had to spend so much of your evening in here with me.”
I smoothed her hair back again and returned her smile. “Our time in the hot tub was fantastic, but talking to you has been even better.” I kissed her forehead. “I’ll find Phillip for you.”
* * *
I found Phillip the first place I looked—the big playroom where the BDSM demonstration had taken place earlier that evening—and Jennifer was still there as well. They were part of a group of a dozen or so folks sitting, laying, and kneeling on or around several large mattresses pulled together in the center of the room. Jennifer was the only person standing, and her back was to me.
None of them noticed or paid attention to me when I entered the room. I hung back against the wall and observed quietly for several minutes.
Jennifer was wearing a black leather bra and g-string, and thigh-high black leather high-heeled boots, none of which I was aware she owned. Or perhaps they belonged to someone else; I didn’t know. Years of running and lifting weights had given her a beautiful body, and there was no way for me to deny she looked stunning.
No, not stunning. Shocking, really.
She was standing over Phillip, who was lying on his back, his arms and legs restrained by what I later came to understand was a spreader bar. He resembled a beach ball—his wrists and ankles spread a few feet apart and cuffed to the bar, his ass up in the air, pulled toward the ceiling. He had a ball gag in his mouth and was shaking his head back and forth, moaning.
In pain?
I didn’t know. I stepped closer to them and then saw two men supporting Jennifer’s elbows, helping her maintain her balance. She was using the toe of her right boot to poke and prod his balls and partially erect penis—and he writhed under her when she pressed her heel into his scrotum. Her smile was evil.
“I told you not to get hard, Phillip. You’re not obeying me.”
Thwack!
I jerked in surprise. The riding crop had come out of nowhere, and its strike left a red slashing mark on this ass. I then realized a second woman, dressed similarly to Jennifer, was kneeling on the other side of Phillip, raising her arm to strike him also.
The scene was more than I could endure, so I moved closer and cleared my throat. All eyes turned my way, and I saw that a sinister, black leather mask covered Jennifer’s face, leaving only her mouth and chin exposed.
Her smile disappeared. “Jack!” she exclaimed.
The other woman looked startled and lowered the riding crop.
I couldn’t tell if Phillip looked relieved or frightened, but it did not escape my attention that any sign of an erection subsided rapidly. I couldn’t suppress a slight smile—the whole scene looked suddenly pathetic.
“I’m sorry, but I think Phillip needs to take his wife home. She spent a little too much time in the hot tub.”
The woman on the floor immediately went to work disengaging Phillip’s wrists and ankles from the spreader bar, and Jennifer pulled her boot away from him and dropped her arms to her sides. I couldn’t tell for sure without the benefit of seeing her entire face, but she appeared dejected.
“We were just having some fun, Jack,” she said, looking at Phillip while she unhooked the gag and removed the ball from his mouth.
“Is Marie okay?” he sputtered the moment he was able to speak.
“She’ll be fine,” I said. “She was feeling pretty faint for a while, but we got some water in her and she’s resting in the back b
edroom downstairs.”
I looked over at Jennifer, who was helping pull Phillip to a seated position. “I’m fine with staying a while longer.” I gestured for everyone to continue as I headed to the door. “Continue,” I said over my shoulder as I walked out.
As I left, I could hear Jennifer saying goodbye to Phillip.
“Call me…maybe we can come back in a few weeks,” she said.
* * *
I wandered down the stairs, intending to let Marie know Phillip was on his way. My route took me past the candle lit room, however, and I couldn’t resist glancing in as I passed.
I froze there in the hallway.
That mismatched couple again!
I stepped into the doorway and watched in silence.
This time the man was dressed in what I can only describe as an Arabian Knight costume, minus the turban. Elaborate leather wrist cuffs extended well up his arms, and he wore a wide leather belt tight around his waist, making his bare chest look more powerful than I would have judged earlier that evening. In one hand he held a huge, imposing flogger, and in the other hand he held…her.
The young woman I’d seen him with earlier. This time she was dressed only in an exquisitely detailed corset that was cinched tight, exposing full, beautifully shaped breasts pushed up over it, as if on display. She had shiny, blonde hair pulled back into a pretty barrette, a creamy, flawless complexion, and pale—almost translucent—skin that contrasted well with the orchid and black floral print of the corset.
As I watched, he instructed her to turn around and face a very large wooden “X.” He holstered the flogger in a loop on his pants and gently lifted one of her delicate wrists up over her head and attached it to a leather cuff high on the “X.” Then he repeated the process with the other wrist before retrieving the flogger and gently dragging it across her bare shoulders, causing her to shudder.
“Spread your feet three feet apart. I will not restrain them unless you give me a reason to do so,” he instructed.
Her ass was completely bare and jiggled slightly as she shuffled her feet apart. As she did so, her labia were just visible through her ass cheeks.
My cock stirred under my robe.
Punishment was the word that came to mind.
The man reached around the front of her with one hand, and I could see his other hand between her legs—only a few fingertips were visible from my vantage point—pressing into the soft, smooth skin while a single digit penetrated her most private place.
She squirmed against that digit, and her excitement was evident as her juices could clearly be seen lubricating her entrance.
He removed his hand from her sex and trailed his moist fingers down the top of her thighs. He then brought the flogger down in a whipping motion, and I involuntarily cringed, expecting the sharp sound and bruising mark I’d witnessed earlier when Jennifer used the crop. But instead, I heard the swishing sound of buttery-soft suede fibers against the skin around her corseted back, extending to her breasts, and I saw only the flutter of a shapely breast benignly disturbed.
He drew the soft tool down the length of her torso and back across the smooth cheeks of her ass, teasing her with it. Then he reached down to put it between her legs and grabbed the soft suede strands in his other hand, drawing them taut against her pussy, and then up and away from her body. The strands eventually broke free from his grasp and traveled full circle until they contacted her body again.
Swish!
The impact jiggled her ass and caused her to squirm in excitement. Or maybe I was watching her anticipation and desire slowly build on the way to what I only hoped to be a more erotic and exciting ending.
The man began speaking to the audience, his voice calm and matter-of-fact, like that of a museum docent describing his newest exhibit.
“Heather knows what is coming. We’ve thoroughly discussed her boundaries for this encounter, and she fully understands that I intend to explore every corner of that territory.”
He put the flogger down and continued caressing her ass with his bare hand while again holding her captive by gripping her privates.
“Sam, what are her limits?” one of the other women in the room asked, her voice startling me since the small group of observers had been silent up to that point. I looked around and realized couples and singles filled the small room, sitting on or leaning against every available surface.
The man was receptive to the question. “It is Heather’s desire that no permanent marks be left on her body, that no vaginal intercourse take place, and that any aspect of her training conducted in a public forum, such as this one, be primarily for the purpose of allowing others to view and experience corseting, orgasm denial, and spanking…”
Spanking?
Another surge of blood shot up my cock.
“…and not purely for sexual gratification.” He glanced down at the front of my robe and looked up with a sly smile. “…though she did use the words ‘not purely’ in that portion of her request. Her Dom, Tony, agreed to all these requirements,” and with that, he nodded to a dark-haired, incredibly well built man in the corner, who nodded back at him.
Heather attempted to look back in Tony’s direction, but the man reached over and tugged her chin so that she was looking at the large “X” again. I self-consciously pulled the ties at my waist a little tighter, all too aware that my interest was becoming obvious.
The man motioned me closer, and then reached out to shake my hand. “I’m Sam,” he said.
“I’m Jack. Nice to meet you.”
“I’d suggest you take a seat, but as you can see, there aren’t any.” He smiled. “But this may be your lucky day. I was just about to ask for a volunteer. Would you care to participate in her training?”
“Yes, but…” I studied her for a moment. Delicate, disarmingly beautiful, innocent looking. “What exactly is she training for?”
“Yes…well, Tony, the gentleman who commissioned this training, desires that she be an experienced submissive well versed in the art of pleasure.”
“Is this her job?” I asked—a stupid question, I eventually realized.
“Oh, good heavens, no,” Sam answered with a chortle. He released one of her wrists, turned her body so she was facing the audience, pulled her hair away from her face, and indicated she could look back at me by tilting her chin upwards in my direction. “Jack, meet Heather.”
“Hi, Heather,” I managed, uncomfortable until she smiled.
“Hello, Sir.” She looked me directly in the eyes.
“Let me be clear, for those of you who are not familiar with BDSM, and, as some of us call it, ‘the lifestyle’. This is a completely consensual relationship between Tony and Heather. Tony has requested Heather’s training, and while some Doms require slave training, Tony has not asked for extreme submissive training. Heather is willing to be trained, by me, in this very public forum. She wants to make Tony happy, and believe me, this will.” A number of the people chuckled, as if they were in on the joke. “But if at any time Heather wishes to discontinue the training, or if she’s uncomfortable with any of it, all she has to do is indicate so by saying her safeword, ‘Pickle’. While Tony is her Dom, and it’s his responsibility to keep her safe and happy, Heather, his submissive, has ultimate control over the situation.”
Sam took Heather’s dangling hand and placed it on his shoulder so that he could turn her toward or away from the audience as he chose. He motioned for me to stroke her temple, and she pressed her head against my hand and shuddered slightly when I did. “I won’t allow her to shake your hand right now, but Heather is a very accomplished musician. She studies violin at a very prestigious conservatory and is already the third chair in an internationally-recognized orchestra.”
He traced his index finger down the center of her back and it bumped over the laces of the corset, making a little ticking sound similar to a playing card in a child’s bicycle spokes, and then he continued in his docent-like cadence. “The corset she wears, which
everyone will probably agree is beautiful…” He ran his hand over her naked ass, and then reached around and cupped a breast in his hand, lifting it as if analyzing it, “is really designed to enhance the beauty of her body and emphasize her particular assets, and to restrain her in a way that constantly reminds her that she belongs to someone else.”
He looked up at me, slid his hand out from underneath her, and stepped back with a gesture indicating I should take his place.
“So, Jack. Let’s begin, if you’re ready.”
He took my left hand, turned it palm up, and pressed it against her left breast, spreading my fingers and then pulling his hand away, leaving me cupping her soft flesh.
“It’s important you think of her as yours for this exercise,” he continued. “Go ahead and fondle those wonderful breasts—be very sexual and overt about it; it’s the whole idea—and while you’re at it, she’s got a nice derriere needing some attention.” He lifted my right hand, placed it on her right ass cheek, and moved it around to get me started.
I did as he suggested, touching every bit of her exposed skin that I could reach, fondling her breasts and elongating her nipples with little pinches, tracing the crack of her ass with my fingertips, running my fingers through her long, silky hair. If I hadn’t convinced myself she was mine, I certainly convinced myself I wanted her. I actually flashed to a memory of a visit to a Ferrari dealership years earlier, when I wrapped my fingers around the steering wheel and grasped the shifter knob, imagining how it would feel to own something so elite and exceptional.
I was also aware that I was getting harder (something else, I confess, that could possibly have occurred during my Ferrari-fondling episode). This time, however, there was only a thin robe between the product of my delight and my audience, and the odds of full disclosure were nearing one hundred percent.
She felt incredible!
The sound of Sam’s voice again focused my attention on the purpose of the exercise.
“Now that you’ve enjoyed Heather’s assets a bit…” He made a big deal of winking at his audience as though he was a State Fair huckster preparing to make the ‘but wait; there’s more!’ offer, and then continued. “We can all see Jack has enjoyed this part of the lesson.” He reached out and pulled Heather’s chin up with his fingertips. “We’ll deal with that later, won’t we Heather?” He smiled at her and pushed his thumb playfully between her lips as he said this.