by L. DuBois
Aram was speechless. Her voice had changed as she spoke, an edge leaking into it. What she’d done was calculating and brilliant.
“Anyway, I still make videos. I started writing articles. I occasionally appear as a talking head on the news—they like to trot me out when they need a millennial.”
She smoothed her hands along her thighs, her voice losing its edge, taking on a tentative note. “But the biggest contradiction no one knows. Well, hardly anyone. My sophomore year I felt ugly and fat and undatable. I figured the only way anyone would want to be with me was if I became a sub. I figured if I agreed to let a man do anything he wanted to me, I might get some attention.”
Aram jerked the wheel, pulling to the side of the road and ignoring the honks of other drivers. He twisted in his seat and reached for her, but stopped himself. “Charlotte, are you a submissive because you think you’re not worth another kind of relationship?” The very idea made him feel sick.
She licked her lips. “Originally, yes.”
He muttered a curse word.
“No, no, don’t worry. That’s why I first tried it. But then I really got into it. I learned that my submission is a gift. That being a submissive is actually a brave thing to do, not the thing you do when you don’t have other choices.”
“Thank God.”
“Now I’m not saying there weren’t some really sucky moments. Luckily I met Master Mikel and got invited to Las Palmas. I tried BDSM outside of the club a few times, with people I met on FetLife, but that went really badly. They played up every fear I had about myself.” She winced, as if remembering.
“Tell me.”
She shrugged. “One started humiliating me, calling me a piggy, stuff like that.” Her cheeks flushed. “Another…he beat me too hard because he thought I was so fat it wouldn’t hurt. Or something.”
Aram’s hands curled into fists and he wanted to beat the shit out of someone and then take them to court and ruin their life in a more meaningful way.
“Anyway, I stopped playing outside of Las Palmas.” She blew out a long breath, then smiled. “The point is, I’m kind of a famous feminist. I’m definitely a YouTube star, and I regularly rant about the expectations society has for women, and yet I’m a submissive.”
“And there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“You know that. I know that. Do you think the rest of the world would?”
He was far too realistic to pretend. “No, they would not.”
“So anyway, I’m actually an entrepreneur—I started doing some venture capital work and I’m investing in a Paris-based women’s business collective. I created an app of my own that helps you come up with the perfect response when confronted by the misogyny of white men.” She mock glared.
He snorted. “I’m Armenian. I’m brown. Don’t look at me.”
“Fair enough.”
He checked the mirror and merged into traffic. She gave him directions. When they pulled into a narrow alley just a block off the beach he whistled. She told him the code and he parked in the ground floor gated parking area of a three-story building painted pale blue with white trim. There were two spots, no cars.
He helped her out of the car, then gathered her bag. She used a keypad to access a small elevator that took them up one floor. The elevator door opened to reveal a lovely open concept room. The west wall was floor-to-ceiling glass with an unobstructed view of the wide sand beach and ocean beyond.
He looked around. He’d thought this was a condo building. “Is this whole thing yours?”
“Yep. I only stay here half the year. The other half I rent it out. Six months of rent more than covers the annual mortgage. I hope to have it paid off in ten years or so.”
Aram was starting to feel like a bit of an underachiever. “Remind me to ask you for investment advice.”
“Okey dokey.” She hauled her suitcase to a spiral staircase. He jogged to her and carried it up. The upper level had three bedrooms, a small sitting area, and two bathrooms. There was a rooftop patio up another set of stairs.
She tossed her suitcase on her rumpled bed, and flipped it open. Her bed was massive, with snowy white sheets and a driftwood headboard. She had a bright pink dresser, lacquered to a high gloss. There was a bench by the closet, folded clothes stacked on its top. There were small signs taped above it. The signs said “these are clean!” and “put them away, lazy butt!”
Aram looked at the signs and started to laugh.
“What?” She was shaking out the wrap dress she’d worn to the wedding.
“You’re delightful.” Aram crept up behind her, his feet silent on the plush rug. He grabbed her around the waist, pulling her back so her ass pressed against his groin. Charlie yelped, then shivered.
“Charlotte.”
“Yes?”
“There’s an item on our checklist that I’ve been thinking about. Just like exhibitionism-strangers, this one cannot be done at the club.” It could be, but what he wanted to do was far more fun.
She made a sweet little noise. “You want to top me outside of the club?”
“I already did that.”
“Okay, true. I mean…like in real life?”
Yes. He wanted her to be his bonded sub. To be his and only his. He wanted her to drop by his office for lunch, only to make her get on her knees under his desk and suck his cock. But she was young. She needed a boyfriend. There were Doms and Masters at the club who wouldn’t have a problem sharing her—topping her only at the club, and allowing her to go home to be loved by another man. It would be complex, but people were complicated, and she deserved that.
But he didn’t enjoy sharing. Not in that way. He had no problem asking another Dom to help care for her, as he’d done with Master Benson, but if she had a vanilla lover Aram wouldn’t be in control of how that man touched her.
That thought just made him more determined to follow through with his plan.
“Bend over, hands on the bed.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Charlotte planted her hands on the bed. He yanked down her pants and the panties she’d made a point of putting on at their layover. She’d teased him with that fact.
He was hard, and as he took his cock from his pants and put on a condom, he knew he should play with her, get her ready. But he needed her.
Cock in hand, he positioned himself. She was damp, but not as moist as she normally was.
“I’m going to fuck you, right now. No preparation.”
“Yes, Master. Please, Master.”
He surged into her. She was tight, and she danced up on her toes, gasping.
Aram calmed a little once he was fully inside her. He dug into his pants pocket, and pulled out the thing he’d snuck out of his suitcase when he removed hers from the trunk. He threw it on the bed in front of her.
“What is it, Master?”
He thrust, fucking her leisurely. “Look at it.”
She sorted through the tangle of chain, until she had it spread out on the bed.
Charlie gasped. “Is this a…”
“A chastity belt.” He pulled her hair. “You’re going to wear it this week. It’s time for us to take care of enforced chastity.”
“Yes, Master.”
Chapter Ten
She was going to die. She was actually going to die.
“You’re not going to die.”
Charlie snarled at Aram, who even through the slightly grainy connection looked smug.
Naked except for the damned chastity belt, she threw herself down onto her bed.
“Let me see it, Charlotte.”
“Come over here and look for yourself. And then while you’re here, why don’t you take it off and fuck me?”
“It’s only Thursday. You have at least another day wearing it.”
“You don’t have to look so smug.”
He leaned back in his chair. It looked like he was still at work. He was wearing a tie with his three-piece suit. “Show me, Charlotte.”
Sh
e moved her arm until her phone screen showed a shot of her chastity-belt-bound pussy.
The chastity belt consisted of a three inch long strip of tapered chainmail that covered her vagina. Each corner of the chainmail had a short length of chain coming off of it. These chains were attached to a leather and chain belt that circled her hips, locking in place with a tiny padlock.
The chains at the back crossed her butt cheeks, which meant she could still poop. As far as peeing, the mesh of chainmail made that doable, but she’d taken to jumping into the shower and using the handheld sprayer to wash off each time. She’d never wished to have a bidet before now.
“Spread your legs, wider. Lovely. How do you feel?”
“Frustrated. A little uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable due to the fit of the belt?”
“If I say yes, will you come over here and take it off?”
“Yes. For a few hours. A few hours during which you’d be in tight bondage and I would not touch you.”
“Ugh.”
“Have you tried to find a way around it?” Aram asked, not for the first time.
He hadn’t forbidden her from coming. He’d only forbidden her from using a vibrator.
“I thought my shower massager was going to do the trick,” she admitted.
“But?”
Charlie rolled onto her stomach, propped the phone against the pillow, and put her chin on her folded arms. “Close, but it didn’t work.”
“And your fingers?”
“I can get them under there, but I can’t really move and it’s just not…”
“Not what, pet?”
“Not enough. Not what I want.”
“And what do you want?”
She rolled her eyes. “Stop fishing.”
“Fishing?” He loosed his tie.
“Fishing for compliments.”
He blinked a few times. “Excuse me, I am not fishing for compliments.”
“Oh yes, you are. You want me to tell you how much I want you to fuck me. You want me to tell you that the only thing will make me feel better is to have your stupidly huge cock inside me.” Charlie remembered the feel of him inside her, and her pussy clenched at the memory. “You want me to tell you that wearing this chastity belt is making me crazy. That if you’d just ordered me not to touch myself it would have been easier. The fact that you’re making me, ordering me—” She shivered as she said the words. “—to wear this thing is so much harder. I can’t forget for even a minute that I’m…”
Charlie groaned and buried her face in her arms.
“Finish, Charlie.” He grinned.
“Don’t make me say it.”
“You will say it.”
“You’re terrible.”
He laughed. “You like it.” His eyes sparkled even as his voice lowered. “Finish that sentence. Now.”
“I can’t forget that I’m yours,” she whispered.
Master Green’s smile disappeared. The connection had gotten better, and she could see the details of the pattern on his tie. He cleared his throat.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow afternoon. I’ll remove the chastity belt at the club. Wear something loose and easy to remove. Perhaps similar to the dress you had on at the wedding. Goodnight, Charlotte.”
Aram ended the call. Charlie stared at the dark phone screen. What had just happened? Why had he gone so cold? They’d been flirting and then…
Frustrated, confused, and now a bit anxious, Charlie padded into the bathroom and jumped into the shower. She’d put on some pjs, maybe record a video.
A video about how difficult it was that society socialized women to assume that other people’s feelings were always their fault. It was topical because even though she knew better, she was going to spend the rest of the night obsessing over what she’d done wrong, and what he’d wanted her to say.
She looked lovely, arms raised and outstretched, wrists bound by glossy black rope that looked menacing against her pale skin. She was bound like an offering up on the platform in the center of the Sub Rosa court.
It was early Friday evening, and most people were just arriving at the club. He could wait until they had more of an audience. The Sub Rosa courtyard, normally full of people, had only a few scattered members sitting in the small groupings of comfortable furniture.
Charlotte made a lovely display.
When he picked her up several hours ago, she’d been wearing loose pants, a tank top with a cartoon drawing of a pony, and the same hoodie he’d first seen her in. He’d frowned at the hoodie, but hadn’t commented. Once they’d arrived in the club, she’d disappeared into the Subs’ Garden, and he to the library the Doms used as a locker room. He’d indulged in a drink, stopping to talk to several other men before heading out to set up for their playtime.
Once he’d gotten ready, he’d had her paged—there was a speaker system that fed into the Subs’ Garden rooms. He wanted a bit of distance, a more formal interaction.
She’d changed into a lovely pale green, gauzy gown. She looked like a goddess of spring with her youth and beauty, wearing the color of flower buds. The dress fell to her feet, but there was a series of small bows that marched from each shoulder down her arms to the cuff of the billowy sleeves. All he had to do was untie those bows and the dress would drop to the ground.
He’d silently motioned her up onto the small platform, taking his time with the ropes. She’d kept her head up but her eyes down. She moved when and where he told her to.
He missed hearing her talk, yet her perfect submission made his cock ache.
The Contradiction Girl—the label fit her.
Once she was bound and on display, she looked so delectable that Aram changed his plans slightly. He took a chair, sipping at his half full drink as he looked at her. He was studying her carefully, so he caught the moment when she lifted her eyes, looking around quickly, before lowering her gaze again.
He borrowed a sub from the Master sitting near him, whispering what he wanted in the woman’s ear. She scampered off to collect what he’d asked for.
Aram could have gone to get the items himself, but he didn’t want to leave her there. She would be fine—no one in Las Palmas would abuse her, and there were enough people around that if she panicked or had some sort of emergency there would be someone to free her.
But he didn’t want to leave her. He wanted to stay with her, to reassure both of them by remaining with her, even if she was five feet away and bound on a small stage.
That first weekend he’d had no trouble ordering her to submit to Master Benson when he had to leave. But now he wouldn’t even leave her for another Master to keep an eye on while he ran a short errand. His behavior toward her had changed, that change predicated on a change in his feelings for her.
And that was the problem.
The sub returned with a three different floggers. Aram took them, thanked the Master for his use of the sub, then examined the toys he’d been brought.
A teaser—fifteen tails made of rope velvet, each tail a foot and a half long.
A leather flogger—twenty-six inch long soft black leather tails and a glass dildo handle.
A small wine bucket, full of ice.
He took one more sip, then set down his drink. He picked up the flogger and the bucket of ice and carried them to the platform.
“Master?” Her gaze was on the flogger.
“Yes, Charlotte.”
She wet her lips. “Have I displeased or disobeyed you?”
“No, Charlotte.”
“Then…”
“Then why am I going to whip you?”
Because you’re mine.
No, damn it, he wouldn’t say that. “Because I want to. I don’t need a reason.”
“Yes, Master.”
She was already easing into subspace. That would only make everything harder.
Aram tested the flogger by striking his leg. He was familiar with it, but a responsible Dom always checked and rechecked his tools.
A wide arching strike resulted in a thump, while holding the ends of the tails with his left hand and flicking resulted in a sting.
“Shall we begin?”
“If you want to, Master.”
“Oh, I do want to.”
He started at her back—her shoulders, to be precise. He worked her over with the flogger, opting for thumps instead of stings. She was still dressed, which made it a bit more difficult when he moved down to her legs. He stopped at her ass, adding in a few spanks with his bare hand before he resumed his work with the flogger.
“How are you feeling, Charlotte?”
“Warm, relaxed.”
“Lovely.” He worked his way around to her front. He struck her breasts. She arched her back, offering them up to his flogger.
The skirt made it impossible for him to land a successful blow on her pussy, so after a few strokes to the front of each thigh he pulled her bodice to one side and whipped her breast. He added a few stinging blows now, and one in particular made her scream.
“How are you feeling, Charlotte?”
“Master, please.”
“Please what?’
“Please don’t stop.”
He gave her second breast the same treatment the first had received. Then he lowered the flogger to the floor and went to work on the bows of her sleeves.
One by one he untied them, starting on the left. The dress fell open when he was done, baring one breast as if she were a Greek or Roman goddess.
He switched the flogger for the teaser and beat that lovely breast with the velvet strands. Her nipple puckered tight.
The second sleeve opened as he worked the ties, until all that kept her covered was a single small bow on her shoulder.
“Look at me, Charlotte.” He held her gaze as he reached out and undid that final bow. The dress slithered to the floor. She bit her lip and moaned.
Those gathered in the courtyard murmured as the chastity belt was revealed.
With no warning he reached between her legs, pressing hard against the chastity belt. She started moving her hips, hopelessly trying to fuck herself on his fingers.
“Not yet.” He raised the teaser, beating the newly exposed breast. When he’d finished, her head was back, her throat exposed, and she sagged into her bondage.