by Amarie Avant
At the top of the stairs is another steel door, Mikayla grumbles about Trick’s paranoia as she completes the same process from before. The door glides open on its own accord, and she gasps in delight.
“Wowzer, this bedframe is made out of gold.” Mikayla is hypnotized by the massive bed in the center of a large room. She meanders toward it slowly then falls head first onto the bed, sheets billowing around her. Intricately detailed wood-paneled walls and a plastered ceiling shift the focus from gaudy gold to regal. I notice the gift box from Trick on the pillow and nod my head.
Mikayla turns around and sits up, staring at the fireplace. “I cannot tell if this place is over the top luxurious or nirvana, suppose we just have to stay forever to figure out.”
She floats off the bed, dashing into the bathroom. I follow her, leaning on the Tahitian plastered wall. While the bedroom had a European regal feel to it, this place embodies a tropical oasis: infinity tub, rock walls and a serious candle fetish.
Giggling infectiously, Mikayla climbs into the tub. “It’s so big I could clone five of you, Jag. Five of you, muhahahaha.”
Licking my lips, I head over to her and reach down, stroking the vulnerable patch of skin at her neck and kiss the giddiness from her lips. “Let’s take a bath, Jagger. Let’s—”
“Get out.”
She pouts, rising from the tub, climbing over the waist high ledge. I glance into those greedy brown eyes that want to spend every single second in my arms and brush her crinkled hair from her round cheek, and I determine that I want to do everything on Trick’s list with her. The good shit, the bad shit. All of it.
“Let’s go out while the sun is up for a little while, Kayla. See how long we can keep our hands off each other. Have some fun.” I pull her body flush against mine, grind my cock at her lower abdomen, and plant a kiss on the top of her head. “I need your energy for tonight, uthando, can’t tire you out just yet.”
We do the things that normal couples do on vacations. A café on a busy street for breakfast. We hit up museums. I’m walking around like a normal person, champagne in hand, and Mikayla is chatting passionately about paintings that a man like me has never had the time for. Her emotions are wrought for nine euros to enter Anna Frank’s house. Her lips tremble, and eyes fill with tears as we take pictures. With a clear bag filled with books, Mikayla and I ride away on rented bikes. Trick’s love of pubs becomes a thing of the past. We dine at our first restaurant while on vacation. Mikayla jokes that her palate wasn’t ready for such refined taste, and, just like that, the clear blue sky darkens into night.
I bathe Mikayla without fucking her, which is a task that would take something out of a lesser man. My cock is stiff as wood when I pick her up out of the shower, draping a towel around her body.
Brown eyes brimming with lust gaze up at me, Mikayla whimpers, understanding that I’m not about to bend her over and take her right this second in the bathroom. “I will gladly beg you to fuck me, Jagger, just say the word.”
Hand at the back of her neck, I kiss those words right out of her mouth. “Tonight, we’re trying something new.” I groan against her lips. Having realized what Trick’s plan was for the night—"While I watch,” he’d said—I wait. Instead, others will get to watch. Her tiny body is ripe, ready to be fucked, and envious eyes will be on us.
I hand Mikayla the royal-purple gift box. She drops the towel from around her glorious frame and plucks at the gauzy ribbon, opening it. Eyeing the pleated skirt, that will no doubt barely extend past the apple of her ass, and blazer, Mikayla bites her lip.
“Hmmm, what’s this? A quiz? Guess I kinda figured the day filled with history could come to some use. So what’s the deal, Jagger, I have to recall a few vital details from museums today or be spanked?” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“No.”
Mikayla’s mouth is agape as I walk out of the bathroom, allowing her the time to prepare for me.
The place that I’m taking her is in a similar industrial area on the opposite side of the city. I’ve given her a few hints, and her emotions are tangible tonight. Intrigue. Worry. Lust.
“So, is this club,” she licks her lips nervously, breast playing peek-a-boo at the apex of her one-button blazer, “similar to the pop-up one that we went to with that disgusting housing developer in Vegas?”
My lips curve into a half smile. She’s finally hit the mark. “Fucking in front of people? Yes.”
“Oh, no.” She shakes her head, hiding an embarrassed smile. “I won’t do it, Jag. Can’t do it.”
“You can. You will. You’ll love it.”
She pushes at my hand, but I slide it closer to her hot mound. The panties she begged to wear, I’d ripped to shreds and placed in my pocket, threatening that I’d use them to remind her of how much more exposed she could be tonight.
“Shit, this is why you made me go commando.” Her thick, dark legs clamp around my hand, pausing my venture into her wet, tight entrance. “I’m guessing the daytime was for my enjoyment, tonight, yours?”
I chuckle. “All for you, uthando. I have a gift for you. Two actually.”
“Humph. Deflowering my exhibitionist virginity? No, thank you.”
“Yes, and no. I’m going to fuck you at the club, sweetheart. Why let everyone else get all the action?” I one-hand the wheel again, the other clamps over her pussy, and she moans, too heady with lust to stop me.
A few seconds later, Mikayla whimpers. “Alright, what’s the other gift? Because a few weeks back I got diamonds from another man.” She folds her arms, eyebrows arched in an attempt to see if I’ll bite at the big bait of jealousy she’s dangling.
“You’re not a big fan of diamonds. The idiot should’ve put the money where it would benefit your people. My gift you’ll love more.” I remove my hand from between her thighs.
I know it should make me jealous that Mikayla receives gifts from others, but I own her heart and soul. And I’m about to own a piece of her body that she’s never given up before. I’ve taken all the honors in the past. First to pop her pussy, first real love. She said she never loved her childhood sweetheart nearly as much as she loved me, and I shot the bastard. So, with an aura of confidence surrounding me, we pull into the parking lot of a newspaper building overlooking the Amstel. The windows have to be covered in light-blocking curtains because even in the dark, there is no movement shown through them, not a shred of light either.
At the chipped, steel doors, I spout off the Walt Whitman poem that was in Trick’s letter: “Through me forbidden voices, Voices of sexes and lusts . . .”
“Once more with conviction.” Mikayla winks, standing to my shoulder tonight with slinky black stilettos.
The door opens, and a man in a black suit gazes past me to stare at Mikayla’s pleated skirt and at the lovely mounds of her breasts. That one button strains to keep them in. He cocks his head, allowing us to pass.
The hallway beyond him is dark. Mikayla’s curvy frame presses into my side as we walk. “Not too late to turn back, Jag.”
I feel the door before we bump into it, and it swishes open.
Mikayla’s body jolts beside me as her eyes drink in the sexual stimuli. “Just focus on me, sweetheart.”
10
Mikayla
What I assumed would scare me doesn’t, which in this case means the entire lot. The place has a trendy nightclub feel, neon lights, slick glossy black bars in various areas, glossy black floors for more action than dancing. All the men are dressed in tailor-made suits, none comparing to Jagger, though. His suit screams to be peeled off layer by layer for a golden, muscled gift.
What sends a shocking dose of ice-cold fear down my spine is the woman in a red dress, eating out her lover at the edge of a table. The sight is hypnotizing, scandalous, and I stare freely.
The lady’s lips are playing softly on her lover’s. I gulp, press myself toward Jagger when he looks me in the eye and tells me to focus on him. His turquoise eyes brighten at me. There are ass and tit
s galore, yet I’m the center of his universe.
He gets us double shots of bourbon whiskey. I toss mine back, the burn lightning down my throat, kicking a jolt of fire in my belly. No one else but me is eye fucking everyone at each turn. People are watching each other, no doubt. Their eyes dazed with lust. Some are even walking up to parties of two or more, offering to join in.
A woman stands beside us, her hazel orbs locking onto mine. “You are not a sub yet?”
Yet? Fuck no! Hell no. “No . . . no.”
“Should you like to learn the art.” Her wrist twirls, and with grace, a card miraculously appears.
Jagger growls, and she moves right along. “Let’s get another drink in you, uthando.”
He places up two fingers, a hundred euro note folded between them. The bartender heads over, tits clamped. I hadn’t noticed that before. I was too busy previewing my surroundings.
“Would you like to?”
“To what?” My eyebrow arches.
“Give it a pull.” She gestures toward the chain dangling between her breasts.
“No, I’m . . .”
“New.” She winks at us. “Enjoy yourselves.”
Ten minutes later, the lips between my thighs are quivering deliciously, desire dripping and becoming sticky as we move along the walls of sheer curtains that section off various rooms. There’s a woman lying on some sort of contraption, her extremities out wide, her sensitivity bare to any willing eyes. Jagger hasn’t taken me, though he eyes me quite like he did the art that we viewed earlier. I’d been explaining a few tidbits that I had learned during one art history class in my undergrad. He stares at me as if he’s learning my penchants and aversions. We move along, and I stare at a woman being flogged and close my eyes to the sound of the melody she makes.
“Wow.” I back away from that scene, take a deep breath, and calm my nerves. The beating I took from Jagger on our first night in London is pale in comparison. I recall the surprising pulse of my nether regions in response. But this brave woman seems to be orgasming with each hit.
After a few more rooms, Jagger’s calloused fingers find the pulse at my wrists. He massages softly, guiding me toward a thick padded chair.
It’s a few feet away from a silver-haired man, and a girl who will probably be carded for the next ten to twenty years. A diamond collar sparkles at her neck as she sucks him off.
Jagger sits down. Stepping wide in my stilettos, I stand firm. The glare in my eye tells him I’m not going balls deep here.
In a second, I’ve been swept into his lap, legs straddling him. His chuckle is so low that it licks across my ears, delectable and sweet, with the power of his abdominals pushing against me with each hitch.
“Remember the first time we fucked?” His fingers sweep sensually over my collarbone. “I couldn’t hurt you then, so I gave you all the control. I let you widen your pussy out for me.”
A flood of lust gushes between my thighs, and with no panties on, I know the front of his pants are stamped with my recollection. His hand sneaks beneath my skirt, and our interaction is discreet, made all the sexier by how the pleated skirt curtains over my round ass cheeks. He teases my clit. I bristle, needing him to conquer the ache that’s been brewing deep inside of my body. Nevertheless, my cognition has not failed me yet. Brain holding onto logic, my body has gone total traitor. My heart races in my throat. I concentrate on the powerful void only Jagger can fill.
Jagger’s hand snakes from between my pussy lips to my ass, clutching tightly. The fire in his gaze is enough to keep me planted on him.
“I couldn’t hurt you, Kayla. So, I need that same courageous girl to relax.” He squeezes my cheeks harder, cerulean orbs sparking with fire. “To fuck me like you did the very first time, when you took your virginity.”
“Jag . . .” My voice is but a whisper as I recall how vulnerable I felt our . . . my . . . first time.
“Pull my cock out, uthando lwami,” he demands. Then his wicked tongue tastes the fear in my mouth as I press my hand between us to discreetly remove his member. My fingers are trembling. Without my eyes on Jagger’s dick, it feels princely and huge in my hand.
“Now, impale yourself like a good little queen.”
Though my body craves him, I press my body over him but stop to peer around us. The erotic moaning coming from the curtains adds a reckless, titillating melody to the music. The barely legal submissive polishing off the old man’s cock to my left does it with such gorgeous slurping sounds that I’m hardly holding on to sanity. She glances over at me, winking. It’s enough to infuse me with courage. I glide my shuddering pussy lips over his cock, moistening the beast. Bracing my legs, I lean up and swallow his dick inside of my body, letting it fill me completely.
His hot, hard erection stretches me out. The sub stares at me now, sucking and eyeing how I grind down. Her lips smile around his cock.
White cream is smearing onto her red painted mouth as she plays peek-a-boo with his semen. Screwing up and down on Jagger, I can’t take my eyes off her until she’s drunk from an eruption that lasted ages.
Then I feel something tingle against my asshole.
My gaze blazes over to Jagger.
He holds up his hand. A thimble like vibrator with lubricant on it is over his middle finger. How the hell did he pull this off? Oh, right, with me watching the submissive.
“Keep watching, Mikayla. She likes you too. Watching her will help.”
The power I felt from screwing my man a second ago lags. “I—”
“I prefer it when people are watching us.” He taunts, playing with me.
Feeling awkward for watching the girl, my mind flashes to the first time he ate me out on the High Roller Ferris Wheel at The Linq Hotel. We were on our own passenger capsule, and I was plastered against a pole. Jagger had my legs hiked over his shoulders. Hotel windows open, sporadic lights. People watched. That becomes my motivation while I screw Jagger.
My tongue slithers over my lips. The soothing vibrations are against the door of my anus. The intensity of it seizes my body.
“Breathe,” he orders, giving my ass a few slaps. My muscles relax, and the tip of it pushes past my barrier. With the pressure on my ass, my pussy is stretched. I whimper at his gentle thrust. It feels like I’m taking two cocks at once. My mouth seeks Jagger’s, and another wave of moisture slickens over his erection. He pushes in another inch and demands from my mouth a kiss that’s passionate enough to steal the cry from my lips.
“Just keep breathing, watch your friend if you need,” he encourages.
Time trickles to a stop as pleasure inches its way inside of me. My eyes have returned to the mesmerizing submissive. Her sexy slurps help, but it still hurts. Though lubricated and slick, I focus on my body welcoming and craving the pain while watching the submissive pleasure her dom. I need to be more like that for Jag.
I suck in a lung full of air, finding solace in Jagger’s arms. He ramps up the speed of his device. Fingers digging in his shoulder, I focus on not tensing as the rocket presses past my resistant depths.
Filled up in both sweet secret places of my body, I sigh against Jagger’s strong chest.
“Jagger,” I purr, lifting my eyes to his gorgeous ones, now mirroring a calming, deep sea. His shaft feels so good inside of me; that rocket pumping inside me too. I stare at him. Working my hips, I screw him slowly. Hypnotized by the rhythmic craving my body has created, I strain against his body. My orgasm detonates. With a scream, my muscles lock Jagger’s cock in a tight squeeze.
He clasps my jaw, growling. “Fuck, feels like your cunt is sucking my cock. So wet.”
I grind on him while he runs his hand over the curve of my ass, leaving tingling sensations zipping over my thick flesh.
I readjust my hips, swirling down on his manhood, twisting up and twirling ever so slowly back down. His cock, that rocket, it’s all too much stimulation to screw, so I make love to my man before a feast of lustful gazes. His lips part, and I know he’s forcing h
imself to concentrate on other things besides bathing my pussy with his essence.
“Take your time, uthando,” he murmurs.
I press my achy breast against his hard chest, our heart beats mirrored while I recover from my first orgasm. The sub is watching us now, licking the cream from her mouth and settling down between her Dom’s legs. He pats her hair lovingly. She smiles reassuringly as I recover.
Now, it’s time to put in work. There are more eyes on us. It feels so wrong, yet so good as I twirl my hips down on Jagger. He rubs a hand over my curves then readjusts the rocket. It’s almost impossible to breathe when the thimble bursts into a firework of spasmodic vibrations. My head falls back, body arched, eyes rolling. The single button holding my breasts in busts. A regal feeling of freedom blankets over me as Jagger pushes his face between my tits. I scream. My body responding with a shock of violent, mini orgasms.
“That’s it, Mikayla,” Jagger says, holding the small of my back steady. “No tensing. Keep coming on daddy’s cock, keep coming, uthando.”
It’s so frighteningly erotic that I stop breathing. He strokes my hair, encouraging me to relax around the rocket in my ass while my pussy convulses on his erection.
“Come all over my cock, uthando,” he grunts, semen showering ferociously inside of me. He doesn’t stop thrusting his cock inside of me, coming more and more with each passionate thrust.
A sliver of the moon is high in the sky, shadows of clouds all around it. On the way back to Trick’s safehouse, I’m quiet in the passenger seat, ruminating over all the beautiful women I’ve seen tonight who were clearly sexperts. Is that what Jagger is used to? Today, and especially tonight, has been a plethora of emotions and experiences. We experienced first-time moments, yet the bittersweet reality of ruling my kingdom is just around the corner.
I wish we could do this entire couple of days all over again. A time loop would be nice. I wouldn’t change a thing, except embracing the sex club sooner. We spent over an hour watching others while I psyched myself out.