What You Crave (1Night Stand): Desperately Seeking Submissive

by Landra Graf

  She stood mesmerized by wild, bright rush of life on the other side of the wall. No sounds or smells accompanied the view. There were people with smiles, frowns, and cups full of coins. A woman in the slinky, shimmering gold mini stopped to tug her breasts in place, while her male companion groped her ass. Emotions ran high on the other side of the wall and she loved being an observer rather than a participant.

  Sig stood behind her and slid fingers up her arm, starting the warm spread of desire through two layers of fabric. “Let me take your coat.”

  Déjà vu all over again. Time to mix it up. She pointed at the monstrous window. “Is this what you wanted to show me?”

  “Yes and no. I call it ‘Art in Motion’. If you look out this window you can make up stories, like you’d do with any painting. Who are they, what fucked up problems they have, will they strike it rich, and so on. Sometimes I sit on the couch and watch.”

  “You people watch?” The concept, while not foreign or wholly inappropriate, appealed to her. A chance to be separate from interaction, yet still feel a part of life. While she cared about her clients, her job resembled people watching. She didn’t give any of herself except her ears. In this case, her date gave his eyes. “And they see a mirror?”

  “Correct. A reflection of themselves, and they either like it or hate it.”

  Easy to spend hours watching other people and weaving tales as opposed to evaluating their own problems. Glass clinked and ice fell. “Water?”

  “Yes, please.” Again his instincts were dead on. No guessing games, just accommodating her needs like at the hotel. “Tell me something, how do you know what I want?”

  He extended the glass and she took it, held it. “Call it intuition. I’m tuned in to you.”

  “How long have you been living here?” She’d do the avoiding now. Talking about how they affected each other, or how he affected her, would be a Pandora’s box better left shut. Instead, she’d ram against some more walls.

  Chapter Five

  “About eight months.” Sig ran a free hand through his hair. “How did you know?”

  Lauren turned away from the window. “The extra door, the kitchenette over in the corner. Besides, you people watch. I thought this might be your version of television.”

  He chuckled. She unlocked him faster than anyone else. These types of conversations were best left unsaid, and he had a laundry list of excuses for anyone who asked. Easier to get to work right away, saved money, since he’d refused to draw a salary until the books were back in positive numbers, and a convenient way for him to keep an eye on everything. Those false justifications wouldn’t work with this one.

  “You’ve got me all figured.”

  “Not yet.” She paused and gulped down the last of the water. “I haven’t determined one thing. Why the rope? You have control over every aspect of your life and you need control in the bedroom, too?"

  The deep-seated anger rose up, not fast and furious as it did with other subs who ‘didn’t get bondage’, or who considered his kink ‘passive’. The ones who discriminated against kinks they didn’t understand. How people labeled ‘fucked up’ by the general public still judged him because his kink fell into an uncommon category pissed him off.

  Through his frustration he recognized, beyond any doubt, the ropes and the wrapping called to Lauren. Maybe not to the extreme level he liked and if anything she called him out because of her own fear.

  “Let’s get one thing straight. I bind people because it arouses me. I don’t need to do it. I do it because I like it. Getting a hard dick isn’t limited to ropes. Nails to my skin, a good grip on my balls, or simple biting can wind me up. But ropes—they are a true test of endurance, power, and patience. Not to mention, you bind a person up the right way and they look sexy as hell.”

  Her gaze wandered to her empty glass, the floor, everywhere but him.

  “Do my words make you nervous?”

  She made eye contact then. “A little.”

  “Why? And don’t hold back. Don’t lie to yourself to make this less messy. Half the people on the other side of the window fail at balancing the mess within themselves with the parts they consider normal. The ones who reconcile the bad with the good walk out of here with a profit of either monetary or mental satisfaction.” He stepped forward, wrapping both palms around her one. She clenched the tumbler so tight her knuckles turned white. His warmth enveloped her and she relaxed her hold, relinquishing the glass with a little coaxing. He set it down on a small side table and stepped closer, cupping her face. “Lauren, you’re beautiful and I know you can be one of the winners, grab hold of all the things you believe are chaotic and embrace them. They don’t need to fit a mold.”

  “I’m nervous because I liked it and I’m not the type.”

  “How do you know? Maybe you’re afraid to be anything but too vanilla.”

  She shook her head. “No, that’s not it.”

  He let go of her, freeing her up to move and she did, pacing the length of the window, wringing her hands or swinging them back and forth.

  She spoke while she moved. “What we did at the hotel… the way you talk to me, treat me, I’ve never experienced such a thing with anyone before. I’ve never been so emotionally naked.”

  A true confession and she started to scratch the surface of what a scene offered. “What we did isn’t the deepest you can take it.”

  “There’s more?”

  “Let me show you.”

  ***

  Chaos and messy. The words played over in her mind along with Sig’s offer. She already had a moment of extreme guilt a few minutes prior when she attempted to trivialize his desire to use ropes. And how incredibly wrong to try to minimize her reaction to his kink.

  Yet she wanted to hold herself back, to keep some part of her from falling over the cliff. Victoria mentioned it to her, the ever-wonderful subspace. The place where the mind let go and gave over to sensation, to emotions. She’d been the one to keep things locked in place, to stay steady and firm. The woman in the mirror from the hotel wasn’t one she recognized and— “All right, show me.”

  No sense in backing down. Her ex claimed she ran from opportunity. Even though every opportunity only dealt with giving him orgasms versus satisfying her own needs. This time the only out would be a safe word.

  “Get the chair from the table and position it in front of the window.”

  The chair he’d pointed at had four wooden legs and armrests with a dark cloth seat. She dragged it over and then sat down, facing the one-sided mirror. People tossed the dice, the roulette wheel spun, and slot machines lit up with bright fluorescent bulbs.

  “Take off everything.” His words enflamed her, lit up her body like one of those slot machines and the room’s temperature increased.

  She followed the command, unzipping the boots first. While she removed her clothing, doors opened and shut behind her, and a loud thump reverberated through the room. Something told her not to turn, not to tempt her overactive imagination, and instead trust Sig to fulfill her cravings.

  Once she finished her task, he spoke. “Turn and face me.”

  Nipples already hard, pussy damp, she responded by looking at him straight on. No shame in being naked, and his perusal told her he liked her this way.

  “Perfect. Now stand there.”

  She wanted to talk, to ask if he’d explain everything to her like earlier, but she sensed a shift in him. He held a different kind of focus and concentration, efficiently undoing the rope chain he held and looping both ends. Fingers methodical, he fashioned three loops with a few tucks and pulls. Then he repeated the step with another length of nylon.

  If she had a knife she’d be able to serve herself a slice of the sexual tension in the room. She focused on his actions and her breathing, slowly inhaling and exhaling to generate calm when her entire being stood on high alert in anticipation. Images of him caressing her the way he did the rope consumed her brain. Similar to their earlier scene, he too
k his time and then approached her.

  “Lift one leg.”

  She brought one off the floor and he slid the nylon shackle upward, allowing the threads to abrade her calf and inspiring goosebumps to take up residence on her entire body. He stopped right above the knee, the heat from his palm soothing the minor scrapes he’d caused, and tightened the wrap. Then he did the same thing to the other leg.

  Sensation became king when he gave the next instruction. “Get on your knees in the chair.”

  After she climbed up and closed her eyes, he tied the remaining lengths to secure her shackled limbs to each arm post at the front of the chair.

  “Now place your arms flat against the armrests.”

  An easy command to follow, she watched him wrap and bind each forearm, melding it to wood and cloth. Her desire continued to grow, twisting inside her like a nut on a bolt. He executed meticulous focus and care to her body, trailing each finished piece with the tips of his fingers. Those little sensations did more than kisses, though she wanted those intimacies too. So far his ministrations included every part of her body except her face. He finished and stood before her. The question would be worth the punishment. “Would you kiss me now?”

  He raised one eyebrow and leaned down, clasping her chin between two fingers. “Do you crave it?”

  The question came out in a whisper, inches from her face. Mint, cedar and citrus blended together, a potent aphrodisiac assailing her nostrils. “Yes.”

  The first contact of his lips proved light, a mere press of skin to skin with no effort, so she darted her tongue out and licked the seam of his mouth. He retreated, frowning, his features at war with the desire in his eyes.

  Then he launched an attack, a true plundering, nipping her sensitive skin and forcing his way through to explore. If his assault on her mouth said anything about his capabilities, then she’d die if he applied his skills to other parts of her body.

  The kisses were shots of whiskey, flooding her with heat, want, and a million other emotions. Some she imagined weren’t listed on her therapist feelings chart… carnal being one of them. When he broke away from her, stepping back and sitting on the coffee table behind him, they were both panting.

  “For talking I’ll have to punish you.” He moved to his pants, releasing the buckle on his belt, and the button. Spreading the flaps wide, he slid his cock out of his briefs.

  Her mouth dropped open and she swallowed a cry. A decent eight-inch length jutted out proudly, and he stroked from the head to the bottom of his shaft. A small drop of precum formed at the tip and her tongue swiped air, an offering. She wanted his cock in her mouth. Never excited about giving head before and it always seemed like a chore, but the idea appealed to her in this moment. A way to have control while at his mercy.

  “Tell me what you want?” His question more a like a taunt as he continued to fondle himself.

  “To taste you.”

  “Ah, but your punishment is to watch, not taste or feel. Imagine what you could be doing to me right now.”

  Oh, she did and she moaned when his head fell backward, nose pointed at the ceiling. His pace quickened, like he neared the end of a race, and when he gazed back at her the groan she produced matched his own. He let go of his cock and stalked toward her, circling behind her, thumping his length against her ass cheeks. The tear of foil ripped through the air, and he drew the covered head across the outer lips of her vagina, coating himself in her arousal. “Would you like to taste me now?”

  She’d half a mind to say yes, and at the same time she wanted him to pound into her. To explore the limits of the chair and its ability to handle pressure—if she could handle it. She shook her head against the idea. He chuckled.

  “No, you want me here.” He thrust the head of his cock into her, and held there. At the same time he flicked her clit. A foreign sensation sent a sharp tingling along her neural pathways, which encouraged her to beg, to plead for release. She bit her lip in effort to keep silent.

  Another inch, another flick and he continued the process until he fully seated his cock inside her. By then she’d become a whimpering, needy thing. She surprised herself by not pleading with him to put her out of her misery.

  “How do you feel now?” His words were strained. They were both affected by his deliberate actions, and she’d discovered the end of her patience.

  “Full and empty at the same time. I need movement, action.”

  He grabbed her hair, yanking her head back and nipping at her exposed throat. “If that’s what you want.”

  “Yes,” she growled.

  He moved in fast, rough, and pounding strokes, in one second and out the next. She cried out at the sensations he evoked, unable to contain her desire to express herself. The ropes strained and stung, the pain intermixed with pleasure, acute and surprising. Her back went rigid when the orgasm burst forth, and Sig paused while her body shook from the release.

  “My turn.” He pulled out and moved in front of her. Condom gone and with cock in hand, he guided it to her mouth and she opened, flicking the tip with her tongue. She let him enter her, all hard, velvet heat. He wrapped both hands around her head, and steered her to the rhythm he enjoyed.

  She relaxed her jaw and enabled his cock to make contact with the back of her throat. In a matter of mere minutes he went from absolute control to shouting expletives and dirty compliments at her. He shouted her name when he came, and she swallowed every last drop of his salty, earthy release. She licked her lips once he removed himself. Then he kissed her, leaning down and taking her mouth in a passionate, rough embrace. She warred with him, enjoying how he explored her with new passion, like he wanted to map the same passage his cock had occupied. His lips left hers and he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Thank you. This entire thing… beyond my expectations.”

  There were no more words and he moved away. When he came back he held a knife and a black silk robe. He cut the ropes. “There’s a bathroom in my room off to the back, if you’d like a moment to yourself. Let me order a few things from the kitchen. I’m sure you’re famished.”

  Signs of a true gentleman, he still took care of her, gave moments of privacy and offered refreshments. Sig held open the robe for her and she slipped her arms into the sleeves. “Thank you. Food sounds wonderful.”

  “Good. Take your time.”

  She gathered her clothes and started to reach for her boots when he whispered, “Leave everything where it is. You won’t need any of those things for a few more hours.”

  Straightening, she took in his smirk and his visible state of arousal. “What can I expect?” Damn. She needed to learn about playing coy or at least not giving in so easily. But she craved anything he’d offer.

  “I know some very practical ways to put the coffee table to good use. In fact, I’d like to have a feast from my table.” He parted the folds of her robe and dragged two fingers across the juncture of her thighs.

  “Fuck.”

  “With my tongue, yes. Of course, I did promise you a short break.”

  Lauren was at his mercy and in a world of trouble as the heat in her skin rose, no doubt putting a not-so-becoming blush on her cheeks. “Yes, I need a short break.”

  “Don’t take too long or I may come after you.” He went to his desk then, picking up the phone and barking out a command for room service.

  Chapter Six

  Ravenous. He repeated the word to the person taking his order on the phone. The best word to describe Lauren’s effect on him. He’d lost all coherent thought when his cock had been buried inside her and damn near lost his entire mind when she’d swallowed every last bit of cum.

  “Two orders of chocolate covered strawberries and a selection of fresh-cut tropical fruits. Anything else, sir?”

  “Yes, add a bottle of champagne, too.” Sig hung up the phone before the room service associate gave an acknowledging reply. No sense in wasting time on a conversation when he needed to start formulating his plans for the rest of the
night, and check his rope stores. He thanked the heavens he’d moved his whole supply here, instead of leaving it languishing in storage.

  She already had him doing things he never did in a scene. Sex didn’t typically occur and even less common… the kissing. Her lips were heaven, her mouth addictive. Already just imagining her presence had him gripping the armrests of his chair, ready to launch and locate the very person who inspired the romantic musings he’d long believed lost to him. The evening had turned into more than just a scene. The challenge would be having it last longer than one night.

  Dread filled him. Introducing her to his world, his uncle, and forcing her to live with his proclivities all at the same time— it’d never happen.

  A heavy knock pounded on the office door, followed by Kanoa’s deep voice. “I hope you’re decent because I’m coming in.”

  The threat wasn’t empty and he stalked into the room with an apologetic visage. Sig expected a tantrum, and got a sad giant instead.

  “Why are you here?”

  “There’s been a situation. Your uncle made a few poor choices and—” Kanoa's eyes dragged toward the bedroom.

  Lauren stood in the door, still wrapped in Sig's robe, her eyes wide and lips pursed in surprise. “Am I interrupting?”

  “No.” Sig motioned for her to come to him and she did, but they didn’t have the remainder of the night now. “Where is my uncle?”

  “In the penthouse suite. Your uncle baited another man into betting an evening of his wife’s time for unlimited use of this penthouse suite is part of a friendly game. There’s a temporary truce at the moment, but I don’t know for how long. I’ve been looking for you for two hours.”

  “I’ll head up there immediately. Go take point and let everyone know I’m on my way.”