by Ann Jacobs
“I’ve never even seen a pro football game. But I was a cheerleader in high school. Does that count?”
“Yeah. You’ll see our first home exhibition game next weekend, the first of many. I want my precious slave in the stands whenever I’m playing. I’ll bring you out here again on Tuesday or Thursday and introduce you to the vanilla guys. But tonight everybody here will share our lifestyle.
“Baby, I’ve never been so crazy about a woman before. Ever. Come over here so I can pet you while I drive.” When she snuggled up next to him he kissed her forehead then stroked her bare shoulder and arm. “I’m gonna collar you tonight. What do you think of that?”
She’d thought he might, from little hints he’d dropped since he got back from training camp. “I like it. I love the idea of you being my Master, me being your sex slave. I trust you’ll take very good care of me.” Like a friendly kitten, she rubbed her cheek against his forearm.
“You can count on that. Here’s the turnoff,” he said, clicking the right turn signal and turning off onto a narrow crushed-shell road that led to Rebels’ Roost.
* * * * *
Was she ready? Every cell in her body thrummed with anticipation. Her cunt twitched and her heart beat double-time as she followed Jimmy into the dark-paneled lodge. From what she could see, there was a large public room with all sorts of dungeon equipment, even a spiderweb, a device she’d only seen once before, when her ex-husband had taken her to a famous dungeon in New York City. Centered in the room was the fucking chair she imagined Jimmy might use to restrain her for the scene he’d described.
Beneath the long wrap dress Jimmy had picked out for her to wear, she was naked, as were most of the submissives she noticed in the public room. “Nobody is masked,” she commented, a little surprised to recognize the Rebels’ new quarterback and both starting tight ends from having seen them do interviews on TV this week.
Jimmy laughed. “What happens here stays here, just like in Vegas. Subs don’t wear clothes here, in case you didn’t notice. Most of the women are like you—personal slaves of members. We have three or four club subs and one club Dom. Donna’s one of the club subs. She’ll put away your dress.”
“All right.” Wondering if her arousal showed, Julie unwrapped her dress and dropped it in the striking woman’s outstretched arms. “Thank you.” When she looked at Donna’s shaggy, grown-out buzz cut she realized this must be the sub Jimmy had clipper-shaved some months ago.
The sub lowered her gaze. “If your Master permits, I will prepare you for his pleasure.”
When she reached to take Julie’s arm, Jimmy stopped her. “That’s all right, Donna. I will prepare her myself.”
* * * * *
Nobody could see Jimmy decked out in that leather harness and not recognize him as a sexual Dominant. Julie’s mouth watered when she saw his cock rearing up against his flat belly, his balls tight against it. Though a leather band encircled his genitals, it showcased rather than confined his sex. With his cleanly shaved head and face, he looked fierce—fearsome to anyone who hadn’t seen him suffering with a hurt pup a few hours earlier.
Her own pink harness lifted her breasts and crossed her belly, splitting her ass cheeks and opening her for her master’s inspection. “God, you’re an angel. And you’re mine. All mine,” he said as he adjusted the harness around her thighs to give him easy access to her cunt. “Come with me.”
Her gaze lowered as a slave’s should be, Julie followed Jimmy into the main dungeon where he motioned to a circular area in the center where the only equipment seemed to be a small, wooden table draped with black cloth that covered its top, concealing…
“The instruments of your enslavement, my pet.”
Was it her imagination or had his voice taken on a more authoritative tone? And he’d never called her his pet before. Her exposed skin felt hot, prickly—anticipation or fear or a little of both—as they entered the dungeon. A white spotlight seemed to follow them as they passed the empty spiderweb.
They weren’t alone. Colored lights played over naked subs and masked Doms, briefly highlighting a big, beautiful Domme in corset and stilettos as she stood over a buff white guy laid out on a fucking table, his legs spread wide. When she unlocked his cock restraint and stood back, whip in hand, she inspected his thick, securely padlocked black collar and the two infibulation rings that now hung free from the end of his cock and the flesh just behind his scrotum. Then she began wielding the crop over his thighs, his genitals, his ridged abs.
Sensuous sounds of hard rock music punctuated the orders of Doms, the moans and cries of their slaves. Farther along the dungeon wall a collared male sub licked a Domme’s cunt while a masked Dom held his leash and fucked his ass.
Julie sensed more eyes on her as they reached the center of the room. Curious eyes. The scents and sounds of arousal and fucking surrounded them. She’d missed the highly charged atmosphere of the dungeon, the voyeur’s appreciation for the sort of stimulation that came only from public submission and, she assumed, public acts of Domination.
“If you want to be my slave, kneel.” Jimmy sat on the straight chair someone put in his hand when they reached the red-carpeted circle and the table. “And look at me.”
At that moment she wanted nothing more, so she went to her knees between his rock-hard thighs and tilted her head back so she met his glittering gaze. Oh, yes, she wanted to belong to him—body and soul. But she knew more than to speak before he granted her permission.
He spoke softly, his voice deep and serious as he promised to care for her, protect her, treat her as his most precious possession. In return he expected her to give him control over her body and obedience to his reasonable orders. “Do you want this?”
No doubt existed in Julie’s mind. “Yes, Master.”
“What will you give me as proof?”
She bowed her head. “My hair, Master, if you will have it.”
“I will.”
Anticipation sluiced through Julie’s veins as the sub named Donna came forward and folded back the cover from the table. She felt rather than saw the woman place a pair of scissors in Jimmy’s hand then step back outside the circle. Suddenly warm, Julie glanced around, saw at least a dozen pairs of feet surrounding them. Others were watching.
“Suck my cock, pet.”
Oh, yes. She bent and took his cock in her mouth. Her nipples tingled as they brushed the insides of his rock-hard thighs. Submission before witnesses. Her cunt contracted and moisture wet her labia when he made the first cut. Her hair tickled her back as it fell.
“I love you, baby.” His honeyed voice bathed her head in sensation as he snipped away her hair. Nothing like the barber’s businesslike work, this was a sensual treat. With each snip came a caress, an incredible feeling of submission to the man she loved.
Yes, she loved her Master, now and for as long as he wanted her. She wanted to please him. She’d never felt so adored, so taken as when he laid the scissors down and ran his fingers through the short tufts of hair that remained.
She saw him hold out one hand for the electric clipper Donna offered. The sound of its motor whirring made her cunt clench and release more hot, slippery lubricant to trickle down her legs. The buzzing of the clipper on her scalp had her desperately sucking him, wanting him to come. Wanting to come, herself.
He wasn’t unaffected. His cock swelled, growing impossibly larger against her throat. She tasted the salty lubrication escape, and his harsh groan let her know he was close. As close as she was.
Oh God, he was killing her with every slow-motion pass of the vibrating clippers on her scalp. She squirmed, blew out her breath around his throbbing flesh. The tiny clippings of her hair clung to both of them.
The clipper stopped buzzing and he ran a big, gentle hand over her head. “Feels like fine sandpaper, pet. Damn, I can’t stand it. Gotta come.” When he groaned and trembled, she realized the harness buckled around his scrotum and the base of his cock had to be hurting him terribly. �
�Let me loose.”
She raised her head enough to see the cock ring and remove it then took him back in her mouth in time to taste the first hot spurts of semen. “Oh God yeah.” He pulled away and came on her stubbled scalp, spurt after spurt of creamy, salty ejaculate that slid over her.
“Master, may I come?” She felt it low in her belly, in her breasts. In every cell of her body. But he controlled her pleasure. “Please.”
“Come, my beautiful slave.” With gentle hands he massaged his slick semen into her nearly bare head, scooped it from her cheeks and ears. It felt incredible, almost as good as the release that left her limp and helpless.
It could have been minutes or hours when she felt her master clamp a slender collar around her neck. It closed with a blessed, final click as he said one welcome word, “Forever.” Gently he threaded the long, diamond-studded chain through the rings in her nipples and clit and fastened it through the one dangling from his collar. “A pretty leash for my beautiful slave,” he said, his tone deep, his dark eyes focused on her face.
When her head had been shaved before, she’d gotten sensual pleasure. But not like this. Jimmy borrowed the big Domme’s slave and ordered him to shave Julie’s head. Jimmy must be afraid he’d cut her. While the slave wielded the razor, her Master knelt behind her and fucked her.
Gently. Possessively. He played with her nipple rings. “Come now,” he ordered her once the shaving was done, as he came again, his heat scalding her. It felt…incredibly good. Clamping down on his spasming cock, she came and came…and came.
* * * * *
On Monday they did the photo shoot. Pissed at first to have to let a male photographer see his slave naked, Jimmy felt better when he realized, if anything, he’d attract more of the guy’s attention than Julie would.
“You have a hot, hot body.” That had been the photographer’s first utterance when they came out of the dressing alcove, even more naked than the days they were born, except for the makeup that made him feel like a weirdo.
Jimmy shot him a killing look, but his dismay was mixed with relief that nobody but him would be ogling his Julie. “Let’s get on with it,” he said, his tone pretty damn close to a snarl.
“How’re you doing?” Julie asked once they’d been posing for an hour or more.
“Okay. This gig’s not half bad, compared with standing around in football pants, pushing shampoo and conditioner. I never got to lie around all morning with a gorgeous chick before, and get paid for doing it to boot.”
“I want that look a little more intense,” the camera guy ordered. “Look like you’ve got a major hard-on for the chick, macho-man.”
Jimmy looked down at Julie, whispered, “And he thinks I don’t?”
“Hush.” But she broke out in laughter as the camera rolled. “Sorry about that, Ted.”
They went on for four more hours before Ted, the director, and the gay photographer finished the session. “We got some good shots. Kidding aside, you two have chemistry that’s gonna jump right off the pages of those magazines. The company may want us to shoot some video for TV ads. They’ll know within six months, they say. They think they’re saving money, but it would have been cheaper to do the stills and video all in one shot, even if they decide against the TV spots.”
Ted looked at Julie and smiled. “You willing to go naked again, Miss Julie?”
She looked up at Jimmy. “Up to you, boss.”
Was she kidding? “Get naked with you, baby? Any day.”
Hell, they had a fetish they could explain away in vanilla company if they ever needed to!
Chapter Seven
Two months later
“I’m what?” Julie stared at the doctor she’d gone to because of some vague stomach disturbances she’d been having the past few weeks.
“Pregnant. P-r-e-g-n-a-n-t. As in, with child.”
Alison Drake, M.D. was very young and a smart-mouth to boot. Not as reassuring as Julie’s regular doc, for certain. “You’re sure?”
“Positive. Do I refer you to the OB guy or the Women’s Center?”
She was pushing thirty-six. She had a loving Master—at least for now—but they’d never talked about the possibility of…this. And kids didn’t necessarily go real well with the BDSM lifestyle they both enjoyed. Still…
“Well?”
“I-I’ll have to think about it.” Talk to Jimmy. He has a right to know, doesn’t he?
Dr. Drake shrugged. “I’ll refer you to the OB, then. If you’re not going to abort it right away, you’ll need prenatal care. After all, you’re getting old to be having a first pregnancy.”
Did she have to say that? Julie knew every year of her age. But she wasn’t on the brink of senility as this woman seemed to think. “Okay. I’ll want…hold on, let me call my friend and find out her obstetrician’s name.” She pulled out her phone and speed-dialed Susan.
She got the doctor’s name, and an invitation to drop by Susan’s place for lunch that sounded a lot like a royal command. “Dr. Mark Cohen,” she told Dr. Drake.
“That’s a good idea. He specializes in high-risk pregnancies.”
Was she high risk? “Am I?”
The doctor had an annoying habit of shrugging, Julie decided when she prefaced another statement with the gesture. “Not that I know of. But at your age…”
Enough! Julie stood and held out her hand for the referral. “Thank you.” Then she made a beeline past the front desk and out the door.
* * * * *
She’d bounced back and forth, trying to decide between going to Susan’s or seeing if she could get hold of Jimmy while he was at practice—the last one before the Rebels’ game with the Maulers who apparently were archrivals who’d beaten them in the Super Bowl last winter. This wasn’t something she wanted to tell him during a hurried phone call while he was surrounded by other coaches and players. Susan won hands-down, so here she was at her friend’s front door, waiting.
“Congratulations! You’ve gotta be thrilled.” Susan was beaming, ear to ear, her pretty face glowing with apparent good health. “Come on in,” she said in her endearing west-Texas drawl. “I fixed us some soup and salad. And milk. Good stuff for expectant moms.”
Julie smiled. She couldn’t fault her friend’s enthusiasm. Now five months along with what she and Colin called their miracle pregnancy, she thought the condition was the greatest thing on earth. Julie, on the other hand, hated milk and had a sinking feeling her baby daddy wasn’t going to be delighted about impending fatherhood—at least not with her, not now.
But she was. If not delighted, then at least protective as hell of the little life growing inside her. She hadn’t known until this moment, but she was certain now. She was going to have this baby. If she lost the Master she loved, so be it.
“I’ll pass on the milk. I guess I’ll have to get my calcium from cheese and yogurt. And broccoli. I hear it’s loaded with calcium, which is weird since calcium’s white and broccoli’s dark green.” Julie realized she was babbling when Susan shot her a curious look. “Sorry, I must be a little crazy right now,” she said apologetically as she sat at the table in front of a steaming bowl of clam chowder.
“Don’t apologize. When I found out, I spent the four hours before Colin got home that day, bouncing between joy and absolute fear. You’ll be fine once you tell Jimmy and he acts like you hung the moon and he’s the only man on earth who’s managed to father a child.”
“I hope so.” Julie didn’t feel like enumerating her fears or reminding her friend that their situations were quite different. They both wore pretty gold chokers that said “slave” to anybody in the lifestyle. But Susan also wore her master’s wedding band, along with a flashy diamond engagement ring that went with it. She’d mentioned several times how Colin and she had decided from the first to do their best to have a baby, or to adopt if she failed to conceive.
Julie tried to stay calm, pretend interest in Susan’s chatter about the supposed joys of pregnancy including som
e details Julie would have rather waited to learn about on her own. Forcing a smile, she ate a few spoonfuls of the soup and a few bites of the fresh-fruit salad Susan had fixed. “I’m afraid I’m not very good company today. I think I’ll go home and wait for Jimmy to finish with practice.”
“Don’t worry, it will all be fine,” Susan said as she walked Julie to the door.
* * * * *
To keep from thinking too much, Julie undressed, set her wig on its stand and shrugged into a terry robe. On the deck, she stripped and climbed in the Jacuzzi tub in hope that the swirling water would ease her tension.
It didn’t. In an hour she’d turned herself into a prune but her temples still throbbed. She didn’t want to think, but she had to. Idly, she scratched Missy’s sleek neck until Jimmy called to say he’d be late.
“Great. More time to fret,” she told the dog after hanging up the phone. Missy just looked at her, a puzzled doggy look on her face.
By the time Jimmy got home—an hour later than usual—Julie was in a fine funk. Every minute she sat on the deck of his new house where they’d lived together for the past six weeks, she visualized his possible reactions—all bad. Maybe she should just leave, go somewhere and have the baby alone.
But no. She couldn’t do that. Even though she figured he might send her away, she couldn’t leave him to wonder what he’d done. What she’d done that made her leave him without any explanation.