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orgasm, to see how long he could last. From his glare, she guessed he knew exactly what she was doing.
But she gave way at last. One perfect stroke and she was undone: her pussy filled, her clit rubbed, her hips hard against his, her breasts on sweet fire. Her pleasure rippled through her body like a series of waves, not one giant release but several piled on top of each other, each better than the last. He grunted his own pleasure as her pussy convulsed around him, milking his cock. She savored each little wave that followed and the feeling of his cock as it swelled and pulsed inside her. She wanted to drain every drop from his balls, take everything he had to give her.
At last he withdrew from her, deftly taking off the condom and putting it aside, and then pulling her onto his chest. Her breasts ached. What had been pleasurable, even mind-blowing as she approached her climax, was painful after. He untied the knot that held the ropes in place, and immediately, she felt a sense of relief. Her breasts tingled, but they didn’t hurt. He tugged the rope in a couple of places, and it loosened further until it was providing no pressure at all. She felt soft against him. Cuddly, even.
He kissed her forehead and held her close.
“So am I a sweet tart or a sour one?” she asked impishly.
He laughed. “I think I’m going to have to go with sweet.”
“Right answer.”
“With a bit of zest that increases the interest. You’re definitely not a cupcake.”
She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not, but she had no aspirations to be a cupcake. Then again, before this weekend she had thought that any man who called her a tart was in for a slapped face. Now, she was resting happily in his arms.
A few minutes later she had almost drifted off when she heard voices, and she looked up, her body suddenly rigid. A couple was walking on the path, laughing as they talked. The woman glanced her way; the man’s gaze followed. Then they continued on.
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She gulped. She supposed that was normal enough for Bondage Ranch, but she wasn’t used to having people look in on her naked and in the obvious afterglow of sex.
What must they think of me? Then she giggled. She supposed the worst they might think was that she was a little tart.
“What are you thinking?” asked Aidan.
“I’m not used to being looked at.”
“They’re the fourth group to come by after we started,” Aidan remarked. “It’s busier than I expected, probably because it’s such a nice day. But I think you were preoccupied.”
She blushed. I must have been. “And why weren’t you?”
“It’s a dom’s job to be aware, especially if his sub isn’t.”
She supposed she couldn’t argue with that. But she wanted to get clothes on, get a blanket, get something. Get covered. Being naked had been wonderful a moment ago, and now that it involved other people, she wanted to hide.
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Chapter Five
Constance was twitching in Aidan’s arms and looking up every few seconds. He’d been pleased at how far he’d been able to take her, but what seemed fine in the heat of passion didn’t always after, and he knew that. He’d rather stay there, cuddling her lovely little body in his arms, feeling her flesh against him, and breathing in the clean air. It was even more fun when she was wiggling, damn near perfection. But she came first, and he wanted her to look back on this day with nothing but happy thoughts.
There were times for a dom to be selfish, and times for him to do what his sub wanted most and convince her that it was his idea.
“We’re done here, love. Time to further your education. Up you go.” He lifted her off and sat up, letting her scramble to her feet. Another group was approaching, and he thought he recognized Valerie’s loud voice. She was unlikely to miss a chance to stop and stare, nor would it cross her mind that Constance wouldn’t want to be the naked center of attention. He got up off the blanket and wrapped it around Constance, and the confused, panicked look in her eyes softened.
“We’ll wait for them to pass, and then we’ll get dressed.”
“Thank you.” She had a look of near-adoration in her eyes that melted his heart, although he’d have to be careful. He didn’t want her falling in love with him, because he didn’t want to break her heart. He suspected it was easier for a dom to retain some detachment than it was for a submissive, although he was feeling quite taken with Constance. He wasn’t in love, of course, but he didn’t think it was possible to care for someone as a dominant should without feeling love for them. And he was feeling an extra dose of it with Constance.
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He stuffed her bra and her panties in his pack. He’d return them to her later.
When he looked back up and handed her the red dress, her eyes were wide, but the adoration was gone, replaced by the sharp suspiciousness that had marked many of their exchanges.
“My choice,” he said with the tone that usually silenced most submissives. Valerie, he noticed, had indeed stopped, although the man she was with was pulling her along.
He didn’t want an argument from Constance, but he especially didn’t want one in front of company.
“The dress is too short for that,” Constance said, keeping her back to the path. She lowered her voice, but he suspected their audience could hear anyway. Both of her hands held the blanket around her, and she made no move to change that.
“Okay,” he said, with exaggerated easiness. “You don’t have to wear the dress on my account, I like you fine naked.” He folded it up again and bent down to put it away.
“No, seriously, the dress is too short.”
Valerie giggled, and Constance turned red. Aidan put the dress in the bag and zipped it closed.
“Come on, slave girl,” said the man Valerie was with, hooking a finger in the leather collar she wore. Valerie winked at Aidan and licked her lips but let herself be dragged off, and Aidan waited for them to go.
He leaned back against the tree he’d tied Constance to, crossing his arms. He didn’t really care how many people came by to watch at this point, and he was enjoying the weather. “When you’re ready, please fold the blanket and give it to me so that I can put it away, and then you can hand me my clothes so I can get dressed.”
She glared at him. Unlike her fear of being exposed earlier, he judged this more a contest of wills. And he wasn’t going to let her down by giving in. She’d never come to grips with her own submissive desires if she thought she could twist doms around her finger. Besides, he enjoyed this part.
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He could see her emotions warring within herself. Eventually, she took a deep breath. “Sir, could I please wear my panties with the dress?”
He smiled. “Well asked, my little tart. But no. Follow directions with the blanket, and then you can ask for something else, perhaps.”
“And if I don’t?”
He laughed, and she seemed to know instantly that it wasn’t a good sound. He grabbed the blanket with one hand and one of her wrists with the other, squeezing enough that her grip relaxed. Then he pulled, spinning her out of the blanket and ripping it from her other hand. He tossed it aside, picked her up, and swatted her bottom. She shrieked.
“It’s a rough world out there,” he said, punctuating his phrases with swats, “and I’m sure you need every bit of your feistiness. But here, you can let go. With me, you don’t have to be in charge. You don’t have to fight.”
He let her go, setting her back down on her feet. She was staring at him in openmouthed shock. She had no experience, he reminded himself. She didn’t know what to do, and she was too out of her element to figure out the right responses. The ones she had to fall back on by instinct were going to get her more swats.
“If you ask to wear the dress as nicely as you did for your u
nderwear, I’ll let you wear it. And for what it’s worth, until I picked you up earlier, I couldn’t see your panties, even when you were running away from me, so it’s definitely not too short to be worn without.”
She took that in, and, to his surprise, managed it without a smart-assed retort.
“Please, Sir, may I wear the dress?”
“Good girl. You may wear the dress.”
She moved to get it from his bag, and he stopped her. “I’ll get it for you.” He didn’t want her trying to sneak the panties, because that would cause more trouble. But the feeling of her warm body in his arms again started a stirring in his groin. He hadn’t been turned on by spanking her—he never was when it was to teach a lesson rather
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than for mutual pleasure. But her softly spoken request had done it for him. He turned her toward him and kissed her deeply, not letting her go until they were both breathless.
He retrieved the dress and handed it to her, and she smiled at him. “Thank you, Sir.”
Something had melted inside her, it seemed. She pulled the dress on quickly. He got his pants and his shoes on. She was watching him, and she seemed to like what she saw. He didn’t much get what women saw in men, himself, but he didn’t mind her looking, not one bit. He decided to skip the shirt and put it in his bag instead.
“It feels funny, not to be wearing panties,” she said. “Sir.”
“Good.”
She blinked and tilted her head to get a better angle as he approached. “Good?”
“You know why you’re going knicker-less?”
She shook her head, and then stopped and grinned. “Because you’re a pervert?”
“That too. But if you earn yourself another swat, it will be on your bare ass. And if I decide I want my fingers inside you, I don’t want to have to push anything aside to get there. And…” He let his voice trail off, to see if she’d ask the question.
She didn’t disappoint. “And what?”
“And I want you thinking about those two things, all day and all night long. Now do you want to walk or ride?”
“Ride? Oh, you mean you want to carry me around? That’s lovely, but it’s hard to stay decent when you do that.”
He smirked. “I know.”
She looked down at the ground and shook her head, but he was pretty sure she was hiding a smile. “I’ll walk, if that’s okay.”
“I wouldn’t have given you options if I wasn’t okay with them.” He picked up his bag and took her hand, and together they walked back toward the building. As they
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walked, he became aware of how perfectly her cool hand fit in his. Holding hands made him feel almost as if she was his girlfriend rather than a weekend partner. He hoped he wasn’t giving her the same idea, because a relationship wouldn’t work.
Even though it felt damn good. The way she kept sneaking glances at him felt even better.
He stopped before they got to the door. A threesome was making love on the swings, a big girl sandwiched between two buff men. Not his scene—he didn’t share well—but he thought Constance deserved a chance to decide for herself. The rest of the afternoon, as far as he was concerned, was all about exposing her to the world of possibilities, and two men at once had been a fantasy for several women he’d been with.
Constance stared. Each thrust moved the woman on the swing against her other partner. “Wow. Never saw anything like that before,” she said. “Never expected to either. It’s like something from a porn movie.”
“Yep.”
“Huh.” She watched some more, and then shook her head. “Is that something you’re into?”
“Nope.”
“Well, good for her if she can handle it, because I don’t think I could.”
He smiled, and he wasn’t sure why. It shouldn’t matter to him whether she liked the same things he did. He was letting her go, and she’d find someone.
“I didn’t even like dating a guy in college if I’d been with another one recently. I’m afraid I’m a one-man-at-a-time woman.” She smiled up at him, and her eyelashes fluttered. Whenever he’d seen any other woman do that, it struck him as the worst kind of coquettishness, but with her it seemed fresh and honest.
Oh shit. I’ve got it bad, don’t I? He shook off the thought. She was another woman, that was all.
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“Let’s go inside. There’s more to see there, and I want to help you figure out what attracts you.”
“Maybe it’s you.”
He gritted his teeth. She obviously noticed, because she added, frostily, “Or maybe it’s not.”
He let go of her hand so he could open the door for her, and she put both her hands behind her back as she walked through. A pretty, very submissive pose, but he suspected she was just keeping her hands out of reach. He didn’t blame her, because she’d made herself vulnerable with her comment, and he’d smacked it down with the wrong look. But he wasn’t letting her go either. He took a quick glance around and then put his hand around her shoulders to steer her toward the side of the room, where a couple of neatly contrasting scenes were taking place: Mistress Sue was inflicting some serious punishment with a cane on one of her regular subs, Frank, who was holding his position against the wall, and Master Ken was flogging Josie with a deerskin flogger at one of the X-frames.
“I don’t think I could do that to a man,” she said quickly. “That looks like it really hurts. Why is she doing that?”
“Because on some level, she thinks he likes it. Or needs it, even. Maybe he likes being pushed to the edge. Or he likes showing off how much he can take. Or possibly he gets off on the endorphins the body releases in response to pain. But it definitely really hurts.”
As if to punctuate his point, Frank yelped as Sue put down a particularly red line on his ass.
“It doesn’t sound like he likes it,” Constance said, scrunching her face doubtfully.
He kissed her lightly behind the ear. “By that standard, love, one would think you hated having an orgasm.”
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She blushed nearly as red as her dress, even though he’d been careful not to speak loudly enough for anyone to hear. He let her reflect, not saying anything until she was ready.
“I did like the spanking. I just don’t know about whips and sticks and stuff.”
“It’s called a cane.”
“Yeah, I knew that. I couldn’t come up with the word.”
“It’s a matter of degree, really—although my preference is for partners who don’t crave serious pain. Some people like jalapeños, and some people like habaneros. That’s a better analogy than it might seem, because those peppers also cause a release of endorphins, creating a sort of high.”
“I think I’m a bell-pepper girl. Preferably the red or orange ones. Maybe a banana pepper here or there in a pinch.” Constance nodded over to Josie, who was sticking her butt out and wiggling it. “At least she obviously likes what’s happening to her, although I still don’t know that I could let a man hit me with a whip like that.”
“We usually call a whip with multiple tails like that a flogger. That one hurts less than a bare-handed spanking does, and you liked that. My guess is that he’s warming her up and will move on to something heavier, but from what I’ve seen of those two, they’ll never play as heavily as Mistress Sue is with Frank.”
“Hmm. And what does he get out of it? Or Sue. Or you? That’s what I understand least.”
“We all like giving pleasure, I think. I can only really speak for myself. Sometimes I wonder if Sue isn’t working out a few issues, but she’s a caring person and won’t hurt her subs in any way they don’t want to be hurt. They all adore her, it seems.” He paused, trying to come up with a good way to explain it.
“There are lots of ways to give pleasure. She could give him a blowjob
or something. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind that.”
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He blinked at her. She seemed so innocent, he was surprised to hear her say something like that. She knew it too. She smirked. “I’ve been around, just not lately,”
she said.
He grinned. “I think you’ll do well here. Already are, in fact. But to your question, I think it’s similar to cooking, really. Some people just want food warm and pathogens killed, and they love their microwaves. Some people want control over every step of the process, fussing over the sauce, happily stirring constantly, adjusting the temperature, tasting as it goes along to make sure it’s just right.”
“I’m a taster, for sure. Goes straight to my hips.”
“And your very attractive ass.” He moved behind her and gripped her hips, pushing himself against the upper curves of her backside. His cock stirred at the contact. “See what it does to me?”
She looked back at him impishly and wiggled her hips. “Yep.” She gave the dress a tug downward. “So you like control, but why do you like whacking my butt?”
“Maybe I’m an ass man.” He chuckled. “But that’s not all of it. I like knowing what I’m giving you is as intense as anything you’ve ever felt, that it’s different from any experience you’ve ever had. That I’m creating an impression in your mind that will never leave you. Whether it’s a spanking or playing with your tits or anything else we do, I want it to be special. As perfect as I can make it. Control is a means to that end.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about me forgetting any of this.”
He wanted to lift her skirt, unzip his pants, and plunge right into her. Perhaps bend her over a nearby table. She’d never forget that, but he suspected not in a good way. She wasn’t ready for that kind of treatment, maybe never would be. There was a shyness to her, and she was already on edge from wearing a short dress without panties. But grinding up against her ass was like torture. Reluctantly, he pulled away before his self-control deserted him.
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