“I plan to. I just wanted to go in armed with as much knowledge as I can get.”
Leah hesitated, no doubt trying to figure out how to answer him without breaking Shayla’s trust.
“Is what happened related to why she moved to Florida?” he asked to give her an opening.
“Yes,” she said.
Okay, so twenty questions it is. “Is her ex a psycho who might hunt her down and I’ll end up in the middle of it?”
“No. I don’t think so. She didn’t say anything to that effect. She got the job through a friend of a friend or something. Came up fast and she jumped at the chance to get out of Ohio because of the timing.”
“The timing of what happened between her and her ex?”
“Yes.”
He chewed on that. “You can’t give me any clues, huh?”
She hesitated again. “You know how sometimes people ask you to bring DVDs to the private parties?”
He frowned. “The porn?”
“Yeah. I mean, I know it’s not a big deal to you, and I know it’s not like you substitute that for reality or anything.”
He snorted. “No. Most of it I don’t even watch. It’s just for background. I’m in IT so I’m automatically everyone’s go-to guy for good porn. Well, watchable porn in terms of video quality. I wouldn’t say a lot of it’s very good.”
“Right, exactly,” she said. When she next spoke, she kept her voice slow and deliberate. “Some people…might not…have the same…feelings…about that.”
“About porn?”
“I didn’t say that,” she quickly said.
“Then what did you…” He thought about it. “Oh. That’s your hint.”
She cleared her throat. “I didn’t say that either.”
“Keep my computer locked down?”
“I didn’t say that, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea.”
“Okay. I’m tracking. Her ex was a porn addict?”
“You did not hear that from me.”
He smiled. “No, I didn’t, but it gives me a starting point to avoid the minefield.”
“Oh, and Tony?”
“Yeah?”
Leah sounded worried. “She’s got some big trust issues. Legitimately. Okay? There’s more to it than that, but she needs to be the one to tell you.”
“She did tell me that little bit, which is why I’m talking to you now. And no, I’m not going to throw her naked into a puppy pile Saturday night at the club if that’s what you’re worried about.” A couple of friends of his from the Tampa area, who were into pup and pony play, would be at the play session Saturday night.
Shayla would make a cute puppy.
She snorted, amused. “No, that’s not what I was worried about, smart-ass, but thank you. I know she’s in good hands with you.”
He thought about Shayla’s rounded hips, how her ass moved in her jeans.
I’d love to have my hands on her bare flesh. “Thanks, Leah. I appreciate it.” He hung up and drove home, deep in thought.
* * * *
Shayla drove home, deep in thought. Her pulse raced. Ohmigod…ohmigod…ohmigod! She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to this.
Then again…not much about her life had changed.
Had it?
How much different was it, really, than dating a guy? At least Tony spoke his mind and decisively told her what he did and didn’t want. No mind games. Not about their dynamic, at least.
But she felt different. She wasn’t able to put her finger on it, but she did.
No doubt Tony would eventually force a discussion about James, but she hoped it’d be later rather than sooner before she had to talk about it.
She undressed and started to put her phone on the charger when she realized she hadn’t texted him yet as ordered.
Well, I was just with him a few minutes ago. He didn’t mean tonight, did he?
She stroked the screen for a moment, undecided.
Hell with it. She pulled his number up from her contacts and sent him a quick text. Better safe than sorry.
She typed, Good night, Sir.
A moment later, her phone vibrated in reply. Good girl. Good night, pet.
She blinked as she read and reread it. That little thrill ran through her again.
Pet.
She couldn’t help the smile. She liked it.
She put the phone on the charger and lay down to try to sleep. That was when she realized how horny she was.
She’d even rolled over to get the vibrator out of her drawer when she remembered Tony’s admonition about needing his permission to orgasm.
Dammit!
She thought about it. I could do it and not tell him.
But then again, that would be violating the spirit of their agreement.
Conflict ran through her mind. She’d left James for what boiled down to the fact that he couldn’t control his libido.
That washed over her desire like cold water. She wasn’t like James. She was far better than James. And she would be with Tony tomorrow. Maybe he’d even take care of her itch for her.
She closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep, praying dreams of Tony would fill her night.
Chapter Thirteen
Shayla gave herself plenty of time Saturday morning. She was up, had texted Tony, got herself caffeinated, showered, dressed, and out the door by nine o’clock in search of a thong. Fortunately, they had them on sale at her first stop, Target, so she bought an array of colors.
Including several in black in preparation for any similar orders Tony might throw her way.
Returning home, she tried a pair on and remembered why she hated thongs. The back piece immediately slid between her cheeks.
Maybe I should just go commando.
Her face heated as she thought about that. If Tony ended up bending her over one of the spanking benches later that night, she’d be flashing everything for the world to see. Not that a thin wedge of ass floss uncomfortably digging between her cheeks was much in the way of cover, but it was the principle of the matter.
Which brought her to another thought.
Hmm. She kept her bush trimmed close, hating to let it get long and shaggy. But she wasn’t shaved down there. She’d noticed most of the women at the club had been either totally devoid of carpet, making matching the drapes a moot point, or had the barest landing strip of hair down there.
Back to the shower it is.
When she emerged, she’d left a small landing strip surrounding her clit for modesty more than anything. Again, not that it would conceal much, but she preferred to think of it that way. By the time she fixed herself some lunch, changed into her sundress and thong, put on the lightest of makeup, and styled her hair, she had forty-five minutes to get to the club.
Plenty of time.
Curbing her anxiety, she tossed a pair of jeans, a blouse, a bra, a pair of real underwear, and a sweater into a tote bag to take with her.
Just in case.
She could wear the sandals with the jeans or her sundress. Grabbing her purse, notebook, and pen, she took a deep breath and headed out to her car while fighting the urge to dig the thong out of her ass.
This will take some getting used to.
Tony’s car wasn’t there when she pulled up to the club ten minutes early. In fact, no cars were parked outside the club.
She texted him. I’m here.
He replied in seconds. ETA 5.
Sure enough, his car pulled into the lot five minutes later. He parked next to her and got out wearing that panty-melting smile of his.
This thong won’t be any help.
If anything, the way it rubbed between her legs was just making matters worse, although the distraction from the way it dug into her ass tempered the sexy effect somewhat.
She hoped she didn’t end up with a wet spot on her dress.
He removed the toybag from his trunk along with an additional bag, and a blue plastic tube about a yard long that had a strap he slung over his shoulder.<
br />
“What’s that?” she asked.
He grinned. “Your doom.” When her eyes widened, he laughed. “Sorry, I’ve always wanted to say that. It’s my cane and crop tube.” He locked his car and headed to the front door. After finding the right key, he opened it. “After you.”
“No alarm?”
“Nope. He doesn’t keep cash on the premises.”
She walked into the office as far as the daylight drifting into the room allowed for her to see. He left the two bags just inside the front door and walked over to a wall switch, hitting it. The office lights came up.
“Let me get the ones inside.” He disappeared through the play space door. A moment later, he returned without the tube. “All set. I should probably ditch the ‘come into my parlor’ line of jokes, huh?”
She smiled. “I’m all right. Sir,” she added.
He laughed. “You’re a quick study. I like that.”
She followed him into the larger area. He’d brought all the house lights up, which brightly lit the entire area. During the play session last week, softer lights and individual, colored lights illuminated the play area, adding a feeling of intimacy to the setting, while the lights over the social area were much dimmer. He took his bags over to a table at the front of the social area, where she saw he’d also left the tube. He opened one of the bags and rooted around inside it for a moment. When he straightened, he had a couple of items in his hand.
“Put your things on the table,” he said, his voice slipping into a lower, more serious tone. “Including your glasses.”
Without hesitation, she did.
“Good girl. Arms out in front of you.”
She did, struggling against her nerves. He buckled a black leather cuff around her left wrist, then her right one. “Not too tight, are they?” he asked.
She shook her head even as her pulse raced. Well, I asked for this.
He pointed at the floor. “When I do this, I expect you to kneel in front of me. I shouldn’t have to say a word about it.”
She knelt on the floor.
“Good girl. Hold your hair out of the way.”
When she did, he buckled a matching leather collar around her neck, inserting a couple of fingers between it and her flesh to check the fit. “Too tight, or good?”
She let go of her hair and swiveled her head around. “It’s good. Sir.”
He laughed. “I like how you remember to add it on. Don’t worry, it’ll become a habit soon enough.” He stood in front of her and her heart pounded as she recalled her dreams. “Hands on your knees,” he quietly said.
She did.
He stood there for a moment, not speaking. As the air conditioner kicked on, the silence in the immense room deafened her, made her acutely aware of how vulnerable she was.
And the fact that she hadn’t thought to tell anyone what she was doing. That she would be here alone with Tony.
Don’t be stupid. Everyone trusts him.
She flinched a little when he rested one hand on the top of her head. “It’s all right, pet,” he softly soothed. “I just need to go over a few things with you. For starters, when we’re alone, you will give me a greeting before we start our play. You will kiss my feet—the tops, not the bottoms—the backs of my hands, and then…” He laughed. “I guess we’ll modify the last part. You’ll nuzzle my cock through my pants. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“No objections?”
“No, Sir.”
“Good girl. Greeting, pet.”
She leaned forward and kissed each motorcycle boot, on the top of his foot. Then she sat up and pressed her lips against first his left hand, then his right. His height and her position put her at the perfect position to lean in and rub her nose against the zipper of his jeans.
She didn’t think it was her imagination that the bulge there grew a little.
“Good girl. Stand up.”
She did, a little disappointed to know nothing else was going to happen, and amused to see him adjust himself through his jeans.
“Skirt up.”
She swallowed. “What? I mean, Sir?”
He cocked his head at her. “I gave you specific instructions on how to dress. Show me.”
“Oh.” She looked at the floor, her face blazing hot as she lifted her skirt.
“No. Look me in the eye.”
It took her longer to force her gaze up to his than it did to hold her skirt up.
“Keep your skirt up until I say put it down,” he sternly said when her hands had started to lower.
She jerked her hands up again, forcing herself to maintain contact with his green eyes.
He looked amused. “How do you feel right now, pet?”
“Exposed,” she squeaked.
He chuckled. “Good. That’s the way I want you to feel. Exposed and vulnerable. I want to force you out of your comfort zone. I need you to be able to trust me. I need my commands to become second nature in your brain. Where you respond to me, not to anything around you. Where your focus is solely on me and you can trust me and let go regardless of what else you might feel.”
She nodded.
He walked around her. “Hike the back of your dress up, too, pet. Let me see.”
Swallowing again, she adjusted her grip on the fabric until the skirt was gathered around her waist.
“Spread your legs. More,” he ordered when she didn’t spread them to his liking.
Now her face felt like a neon beer sign in the window of a bar next to a dry county.
His soft voice in her left ear startled her. “How do you feel now, pet?”
“Extremely exposed, Sir,” she whispered.
“Good. Stand like that until I say otherwise, with your skirt up and your feet spread.” He turned his back on her and walked over to his bag and grabbed a couple of items. When he returned, she saw he had the metal whisks from the other night, a short, leather strap with a solid handle she knew was called a slapper, and a…
“Is that a spatula, Sir?”
He grinned and held the black object up. “Yep. Good for scraping batter out of bowls, or smacking subbies’ asses.” He stepped in close and hooked a finger through the front D-ring on the collar. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “And as I told you, you can always call red. I want to give you a little taste of what I have in store for you later tonight, so you have something to look forward to. Any objections?”
She shook her head. “No, Sir.”
His grin did dangerous things to her reserve. “That’s my good girl. Keep that dress up and those feet apart.”
He released her collar and walked around behind her. She flinched again when she felt his hands on the thong’s waistband.
Then she realized he was pulling it down her legs.
She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together as she felt what little covering she’d had disappear.
He put an arm around her waist to steady her and tapped her right leg. “Step up, pet.”
She lifted her foot and felt him pull the thong off her leg and drop it to the floor, where it puddled around her left ankle. “Foot down, pet.”
She complied.
“Legs apart, like I told you.” This time he nudged her right foot out with his. The boot leather felt warm against the side of her foot through the sandal.
He stepped away again. She heard him move in front of her. “Do you want a blindfold, pet?”
“Yes, Sir.” The words slipped from her lips without even needing to think about them.
“Ah, my poor, bashful pet. I should make you watch this time, but I won’t. I’ll go easy on you.” She heard him walk away. Then he rummaged through his bag, his boot heels making solid sounds on the painted concrete floor as he returned. She felt him slip a soft leather blindfold over her head and buckle it.
“How’s that, pet?”
She nodded. “Good, Sir.”
Even the word “pet” had taken on a new connotation for her. It felt like a ne
w name. She was his pet, his toy, his plaything.
She heard him pick up one of the items he’d left on the floor next to her feet. When the plastic touched the skin of her inner right thigh, she twitched but didn’t draw her legs closed.
“Keep that skirt up, pet,” he said in a low warning tone when she’d let it slip. She yanked it back up again, bunching it in her hands so she could keep her elbows at her sides and not drop the fabric.
He lightly slapped her ass and thighs with the slapper first, just barely enough to be stingy in a pleasant, scratching-an-itch kind of way. After a few minutes of that he switched to the spatula.
He caressed up and down her inner thigh with the spatula, down to her calf, behind her knee, with both the flat side of it and the edge. Then up her thigh, just between her legs where he skipped her clit and pussy altogether and repeated the teasing on her left leg.
“You’re wet, pet. I can smell you.” He sounded amused.
He didn’t chide her for not replying, so she remained silent.
He did that for long minutes, back and forth.
Then a stingier slap, against her inner right thigh, making her yip in surprise more than pain.
“Legs apart!” he barked. It startled her, and she forced them apart. He started slapping the insides of her thighs with the spatula, up and down, the backs of her legs, her ass. Not as hard as she suspected he could hit, but in a few moments she felt the stinging all over.
He stopped, which shocked her almost as much as when he’d started.
His warm breath blew across her clit. “My poor, wet pet.” He lightly brushed her clit with the spatula.
She froze, which didn’t escape his notice. “Good girl. Hold very still.” He slipped the edge of the spatula back and forth through the folds of her labia and up the seam of her ass, teasing her. She pressed her lips together to try to hold back her whimpers.
It seemed nothing escaped his notice. “Make all the noise you want, pet. It’s just us.”
He dragged the edge of the spatula across her clit. That made her moan and involuntarily thrust her pelvis forward, wanting to maintain contact with it.
“Good girl,” he cooed. “That’s exactly what I want you to do.” He repeated the motion, tormenting her with the spatula, making her clit swell and throb even as her pussy began to dully ache with a cramping need she knew only an orgasm would take care of.
The Denim Dom (Siren Publishing Sensations) Page 14