by Julia Sykes
I didn’t want that kind of contact with any man.
I didn’t.
I heaved in a sigh when he pulled away, breaking the intense connection. The skirt pooled around my high heels, and I stepped out of it without him having to instruct me.
He remained kneeling before me and reached for the spreader bar. He closed the cuff at one end around my left ankle, drawing the leather tight around my flesh before buckling it at a more comfortable setting. The brief squeeze drew forth a renewed sense of helplessness, but this time it wasn’t accompanied by fear. Lust swirled within me, and my nipples grew tight beneath my corset. With my arms pulled taut above me, my cleavage was on lewd display, my nipples nearly peeking over the upper edge of the confining garment. The press of the steel bones against my waist only heightened my awareness that my body was bound, vulnerable to the man before me. He might be kneeling, but there was nothing subservient about his demeanor when he gripped my right ankle and eased it away from my left, gently urging me to widen my stance, steadily spreading my legs so I was open for him. Cool air caressed my labia as they parted along with my legs. My thong slipped between them, the elastic teasing as it pressed into my swollen folds.
My arousal was becoming undeniable, unbearable. It was so intense that I was hardly able to worry about the fact that my control was slipping.
He secured the second cuff around my ankle, the metal bar between the two keeping me spread wide. He took an eternity to stare up at me, studying my sex intently. His features tightened with hunger, but he kept careful distance between us.
I ached for him to touch me. The realization hit me hard. He’d told me that I might beg him for his touch, and he’d managed to make me desperate for it in a matter of minutes. The scene hadn’t even begun, yet my body thrummed with lust. The heady sensation was disconcerting, overwhelming. It threatened to sweep all reason away. I couldn’t recall ever being this turned on.
He tore his gaze from the most intimate part of my body, giving me the briefest reprieve from his powerful demeanor. Then he picked up the crop and rose to his feet. Somehow, I’d forgotten his size, and I suddenly felt very small in the shadow of his hulking frame.
He cocked his head to the side, considering me.
“How do you feel about being blindfolded?”
I drew in a shuddering breath and did my best to shrug nonchalantly, a gesture that was ruined by my bound arms. “Sure,” my voice came out in a breathy whisper that belied my attempt at cool confidence. “You can blindfold me.”
His lips firmed, and he stepped away from me to return to the wall of kinky toys. He quickly selected a strip of black cloth and came back to me.
He leaned in close and wrapped the soft material around my head. Darkness closed around me when it slipped over my eyes. He knotted it firmly, securing it in place.
“I didn’t ask for your permission.” His voice was a low rumble in my ear. “I asked how it makes you feel. Vulnerable? Aroused?”
I sucked in several shallow, rapid breaths, my breasts pressing against the inside of my corset. My peaked nipples rubbed against it, making them throb and ache.
The cool leather tongue of the crop touched the side of my neck. Sensation lit up my nerve endings, making my skin dance. I was hyper-aware of his closeness, even though he wasn’t touching me directly. The crop traced a slow line down my neck, across my collarbone, before caressing the upper swell of my breasts. I gasped as my core contracted, lust spiking.
“I asked you a question,” he prompted. “Are you aroused?”
I pressed my lips together, holding back the embarrassing admission. Something was passing between us, something unsettling in its intensity. It was as though energy was being pulled from my body, as though he claimed it for himself as I helplessly ceded it to him. I tried to resist, grasping for control.
The crop left my breasts, and the smooth leather suddenly touched my inner thigh. It trailed slowly upward, and my clit pulsed madly as it neared. He didn’t stimulate me where my body craved it most; instead, he brushed the tongue across my soaked labia.
He took away the pleasure almost as soon as he’d inflicted it, and a strangled moan of protest worked its way up my throat.
“Definitely aroused,” he said, his voice imbued with cocky satisfaction. “You might not want to admit it, but your body answered me.”
The crop touched my mouth, and the salty wetness of my lust painted my lips. He trailed the slick leather across them, making them tingle.
“What…” my voice wavered. “What are you doing?”
“You might have played before, but you don’t know the first thing about real BDSM,” he informed me, his tone roughening with his own lust. “I’m dominating you, princess. And you will learn the meaning of submission by the time I’m finished with you.”
A high, keening noise that I’d never made before slipped through my lips. It sounded like an animalistic whimper. My cheeks flamed with embarrassment. The crop left my mouth to press beneath my chin, lifting my face for his scrutiny.
“That’s a very pretty color,” he remarked softly. “I like you blushing. I wonder where else you’re a lovely shade of pink,” he mused. “I’m going to make your pretty pussy nice and flushed.”
He paused for a moment, letting the crass words hover between us. They sank into me, burning through my insides and sending heat flashing through my body.
“Your safe word is red,” he told me. “Can you remember that?”
“Of course I can.” A hint of my indignation returned. Did he really think I was so dim that I couldn’t remember a simple safe word?
The pressure of the crop beneath my chin increased, tipping my head back further and forcing me up onto my toes.
“Don’t be so sure. I’m going to take you so high, you’ll forget your own name. But don’t forget that one word.”
I wanted to say that I doubted his arrogant assertion. No Dom had ever sent me into subspace. I might play the role of a sub for my scenes, but I never truly submitted.
But something deep within me whispered that I’d already lost. I’d made the mistake of engaging in a power play with him, and I’d ceded to his will. I’d thought I was fully in control of the scene, but what had seemed like small changes—the blindfold, the gentle caresses of the crop instead of painful strikes, his low, firm commands rather than barked orders—had made me come undone.
“Good girl,” he said again before I could gather my wits enough to formulate a flippant response.
“I didn’t say anything,” I protested weakly. I’d done nothing to earn his praise.
The crop tenderly traced the line of my jaw. I suddenly wished he’d touch me with his fingertips instead. My teeth sank into my lower lip as I bit back a plea for him to put his hands on me.
“You didn’t have to say anything,” he told me in that same smooth, soothing tone. “And you don’t have to fight me. I can tell you’re trying to resist. Submit.”
“I can’t,” I whispered.
“Yes, you can. You just don’t want to. But I’m not giving you a choice. Your only way out of this is your safe word.”
A beat of silence passed. He was giving me the opportunity to escape.
But I said nothing. I sealed my fate.
“Excellent. You’ve pleased me, Chloe.” The smooth leather traced the swell of my breasts again, and I arched into him as carnal sensation overwhelmed me. “That feels good, doesn’t it?”
I moaned. A bite of pain nipped at me as the crop slapped the top of my breast.
“I want a coherent answer,” he prompted, his voice lilting with arrogant amusement. A twin hit landed on my other breast, chastising me.
“Yes,” my shy admission was barely audible.
“Louder. And address me with respect.” The crop snapped against my sensitive inner thigh, and I cried out at the unexpected sting. With my sight taken, I couldn’t predict where the blows would land. It heightened my physical senses, making the relatively
light hits inflict sensation that went deeper than my flesh. An odd tingling raced across my mind along with the sparks that danced across my skin. Thoughts turned hazy, and for a moment I floated.
Then the crop fell on my thighs again, snapping against one and then the other in rapid succession. I squealed and tried to close my legs, only to be reminded that they were held open by the spreader bar. My sound of protest transformed into a husky moan.
“I asked you a question,” his voice threaded through my mind. “Tell me this feels good. Tell me you like pleasing me.”
“Yes,” my voice seemed detached from my consciousness, leaving my lips without thought. “Yes, it feels good.”
“Yes, Sir,” he corrected me with another, sharper slap against my thigh. My abused flesh throbbed with a delicious burn, the warmth spreading up into my pussy.
“Yes,” I said more clearly. “It feels good, Sir.”
The crop suddenly pressed against my labia, stroking the wet folds. My head dropped back on a long sigh as pleasure flooded my mind.
“You mean it this time,” he said, his voice deep with satisfaction. “You called me Sir before because you thought it sounded like one of your romance novels. But this is the real thing, princess. A good Dom earns a sub’s respect.” He continued to stroke me with the crop, and my clit pulsed in need.
“I’m going to hit your clit, and you’re going to come for me,” he informed me. “But you’re going to ask me for it like a good girl. When we started, you demanded that I crop you. Do you want to try that request again?”
I whined my wordless resistance as a small part of me clung on to my final shreds of control.
He tapped the crop against my pussy lips, the light slap a promise of how he would stimulate my aching clit.
“We both know you want to come. I want it, too. I want you to give me a nice, big orgasm. Your pleasure is mine. Your body is under my control. I want to hear you admit it, to both of us. This is submission, princess. And you were made for it.”
His low, confident words wrapped around me like a caress even more erotic than the touch of the crop on my pussy. It was deeper than physical pleasure; it called to my soul.
I let out a blissful sigh, my entire body softening as I gave everything to him.
“That’s it,” he urged. “Surrender. Beg me for your orgasm.”
“Please make me come, Sir.”
“With pleasure.” The crop tapped against my clit, and I shrieked as the light sting elicited a burst of ecstasy that made stars pop across my darkened vision. “Come for me,” he ordered.
The leather snapped against my sensitive bud in a rapid, staccato rhythm, inexorably drawing pleasure from my body as the flashes of pain stoked white-hot ecstasy. It crested with shocking force, bliss shooting from my pulsing core to heat my entire body, from my clit to my toes and fingertips. My primal scream echoed throughout the dungeon as I let go completely, the heady sense of release heightening my pleasure to something transcendent. Chains rattled as I twisted and moaned, my orgasm rolling through me with a ruthless intensity that matched Dex’s unyielding dominance of my entire being.
Eventually, my orgasm faded away, but the soul-deep pleasure didn’t abate. I remained cocooned in warm bliss, nestled in its sweet embrace.
I was dimly aware of the cuffs loosening from my ankles and wrists, the tension of the chain releasing. Strong arms caught my boneless body as I sagged without the support. He lifted me up, cradling me against his hard chest. I pressed my cheek to his warmth and breathed in his rich, masculine scent: salt-kissed leather and something deeper I couldn’t quite identify.
Sweet, soothing words of praise floated down to me, the meaning clear even though I couldn’t quite focus on exactly what was being said.
I remained wrapped in warm, velvet darkness for a blissful eternity. After a long while, the blindfold was gently tugged free. Light seared across my closed lids, and I turned my face into his chest to block it out.
“Take a moment to adjust,” he said in that same smooth, comforting tone. The gentle order was impossible to refuse. I breathed deeply, lingering in the happy, floaty space I’d found at the center of my being.
“Open your eyes, Chloe,” he urged after a few quiet minutes. “It’s time to come back.”
I did as he commanded, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light that flooded my vision. After a few seconds, his face coalesced above me. His remarkable eyes were studying me with the same careful attention he’d shown since our scene began. He’d been fully focused on me the whole time, determined to see past my cool exterior and look into my soul. He’d been intent on earning my submission, and I’d surrendered.
Subspace. I’d actually hit subspace. I’d read about it and written about it often enough to recognize what I’d experienced. But no beautifully-crafted words could ever fully prepare me for the pure bliss of complete release.
“How are you feeling?” he asked kindly.
“I’m fine,” I answered quickly. Now that my brain was piecing itself back together, discomfiture tightened my chest. Dex was holding me, his strong arms wrapped around me. My ass was still bare, my skin molding to his warm leathers. And there was something hard pressing into my flesh. I gasped and squirmed when I registered that I was sitting on his erection. His arms tightened around me, holding me in place.
“You don’t seem fine,” he remarked with a frown.
“You have an erection!” I exclaimed. I hadn’t been in such close contact with any man’s cock in years. Not since Neil…
His frown deepened. “Of course I do. That was a fucking hot scene. Just because I got a hard-on doesn’t mean I’m going to fuck you. I’m not an animal. I do have self-control.”
I pressed against his chiseled chest, trying to shove away from him. I might as well have been fighting against a marble statue.
“Let me go,” I demanded as calmly as I could manage.
He hesitated for a few seconds. I glared at him, meeting his keenly assessing gaze with defiance. He might have slipped past my defenses before, but our scene was over, and I wouldn’t let him in again. Submitting had been a mistake.
“Now,” I bit out, imbuing the one word with as much power as I could muster.
He loosened his grip, and I pushed up off his lap, barely finding my balance on shaking knees. I felt wrung-out, weak. Vulnerable.
I turned away from him and went to grab up my skirt, stepping into it and jerking it up my legs to cover myself.
“You’re going to drop,” his voice was heavy with disapproval. “I don’t have to touch you, but at least stay and talk to me for a little while.” He gestured to the empty cushion beside him on the leather couch where he’d been holding me. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
I drew in a deep breath and summoned up my composure. “Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t want to have sex. Thanks for the scene. It was very informative.”
“Informative?” He scowled.
I lifted my chin. “Yes. I think I got some good material for my book. I appreciate you taking the time to help me out with my research.”
“Your research,” he repeated in a cold monotone. “Right.”
I gave him a brusque nod. “Thanks again. I should get going. I have an early morning tomorrow.”
“Wait,” he commanded as I turned to leave. I stopped and looked back at him. “Promise me you’ll talk to Carina if you start to drop. I don’t like you leaving after an intense scene when you’re upset.”
I shrugged. “I’m not upset. But I’ll talk to Carina if I need to,” I added when his strong jaw firmed with disapproval.
I broke from his gaze and strode out of the room before the uncomfortable conversation could continue. I hadn’t been lying; I wasn’t upset. Not really. Annoyed with myself, maybe. I hated that I was so affected by the feel of Dex’s cock pressing into me. It was flagrant proof that I’d come perilously close to breaking my promise to myself. I didn’t want any man, but Dex had made my body crave his
touch. The experience might have been mind-blowing, but I’d risked too much by making myself so vulnerable to him.
I shook him from my mind, putting all my conflicted emotions behind me. We had shared a pleasant evening, nothing more. And now that evening was ending. It was time for me to find Carina and leave Decadence. Tomorrow, I’d get my big break on my Latin Kings story, and I didn’t need thoughts of BDSM clouding my mind. I’d return to work on my book another night. Maybe a little time and distance would allow me to process what had happened with Dex without making me feel so hot and bothered and confused.
One thing was for certain: I’d definitely gotten the material I needed to take the kink factor in my books to the next level.
4
Dex
With a title like Declan’s Desires, I’d gone into Chloe’s book with low expectations. Not that I didn’t think she was intelligent, but the half-naked man pouting on the cover hadn’t set the bar very high. This wasn’t going to be as good as my usual sci-fi sagas.
Or so I thought. While the love story wasn’t really my thing, the writing was good. Better than good. Her settings were vivid, her characters well-drawn. And the BDSM scenes were fucking hot.
She’d left me alone and sexually frustrated just a few hours ago, and my hard-on came raging back to life as I read her lurid description of a flogging scene.
Although the character was a curvy blonde, I couldn’t help picturing a lithe brunette strapped down to the spanking bench. Was this Chloe’s personal fantasy? Did she also put herself in the role of the submissive when she was writing? Or was it simply a calculated write-up of a scene she thought would sell the most copies?
I still couldn’t get a read on Chloe. She claimed she was only interested in kink for research purposes, but she’d submitted so sweetly for me.
Well, maybe not so sweetly. She’d challenged me at every turn, making me work for her submission. I’d never had a scene like it. Even the brattiest subs I’d played with were eager to be dominated. Chloe had been detached, defiant. Until I finally broke through and revealed the submissive within.