Midnight Caller

by NJ Cole

  I was pleased that she was taking her time—taking it seriously.

  When she finally got up and walked into her bedroom, I noticed that she looked sad. It hurt me that she wasn’t feeling the happiness that I’d been feeling about our encounter, but it was good. It meant that she was upset at disappointing me. Her attitude would make it much easier for her to train and much more enjoyable for me to punish.

  I wasn’t going to let her go to bed upset, but I did want her to wait for a bit. She tossed and turned for nearly half an hour before settling into one position. When I saw her breathing becoming regular, I called. I was pleased that she answered quickly.

  “Goodnight, butterfly. I was calling you tonight to say that, even though I was disappointed.” She nodded. “I want to be sure that you will not confuse the need for a punishment with the amount of pleasure you give me. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir, butterfly understands,” she said.

  I wasn’t so sure that she really understood. “What do you understand?” I asked. “You may continue to speak freely.”

  “Your butterfly understands that she deserved this punishment.”

  “Yes, that part is true, little one. But you also deserve my care. Just because you disappointed me, doesn’t mean that I don’t want you. All it means is that you will learn from your mistakes.”

  She smiled, and I saw then just how tired she was.

  “Now, my little one, I need you to go to sleep. You will need your rest for tomorrow.”

  Chapter 21

  butterfly

  He hung up and a shiver went up my spine. He said I would need my rest. What did he mean? I knew I was going to see his playroom tomorrow. Would I need my rest for that? My mind raced through all of the possibilities, and at some point in my fantasizing, I was lost in sleep.

  I woke up extremely frustrated after a night of steamy dreams. He called, but all he said was, “Good morning, butterfly,” and then hung up.

  I went for a run, showered and ate breakfast, but I still had hours to go until lunch. I was excited to see his playroom and time seemed to be standing still. I busied myself by paying bills, cleaning my apartment, and reading a bit. Hurriedly, I ate a light lunch, and when it was finally time to go, I picked up the keys and the contract and began to head to the elevator. The ringing phone stopped me.

  “A little excited, babygirl?” he chuckled into the phone. I could feel the heat flood my cheeks. “It’s okay, butterfly. Don’t be embarrassed. Sir is pleased that you are so eager. There are a few instructions, and then you may go and explore.”

  I nodded my head, somehow knowing he could see me.

  Ten minutes later, the elevator doors were opening to reveal an extremely elegant penthouse. I recalled his instructions—from both his letter and his phone call. After using the elevator key to get to the penthouse, find the red playroom door. It is right off the living room. I saw the door immediately and walked over to it. When you are in the playroom, clothing is never to be worn. Today, however, I will allow you to wear your undergarments. You will strip down outside of the door. I removed my clothes as his words replayed in my head. Standing in a black bra and thong, I slowly opened the door.

  I had spent the day preparing myself for what I might see, yet I still stood there in shock. It was nothing like I had imagined. Somehow, in my mind it had looked like some sort of a torture chamber, with cinderblock walls and chains hanging everywhere. This room, however, looked elegant, beautiful, classy. Three walls were a dark grey, while one wall was black leather. The walls were covered in erotic art. There were many framed, black charcoal drawings, with vague faces but detailed body parts. There were also various types of whips, floggers and paddles hanging on the walls. I wasn’t sure if they were for decoration or if they were actually used.

  Couches, chairs, and a few benches were placed throughout the room. There was a dark, wrought iron bed in the corner, and several dressers lined one of the walls. I walked in, feeling the hardwood against my bare feet. I loved the sensation of hot against cold, and knew that I would also love the way the leather felt on my skin.

  The purpose of some of the pieces of furniture was very clear—like the whipping bench—while other pieces, like the couches, seemed to be there for decoration, or perhaps the comfort of my Sir. Walking toward the center of the room, I ran my fingertips across the back of a leather chair and realized that it had rings in several places where someone could easily be bound in various positions. When I looked more closely at the other pieces of furniture, I found that they were much the same, with places to bind someone. The thought of being secured to the different chairs and benches had me aroused. I could feel my panties getting wet.

  I set the contract down on a table and continued to walk around the room, looking closely at everything while remembering his words. Do not be afraid to touch or explore anything. My hands grazed lightly over the wood on the dresser before opening the top drawer. It was filled with all sorts of creams and lotions. I continued my exploration, finding drawers containing nipple clamps, anal plugs, and an assortment of vibrators and dildos, along with numerous items I could not name nor tell their purpose.

  I glanced at the bed, but before I could go over to investigate, something shiny on the leather wall caught my attention. When I looked closer, I could see that there were metal rings hanging flat against the wall at varying locations, and I wondered if this wall could be used like the furniture to secure someone in a particular position. Thoughts of being bound to the wall, like I had once seen a woman bound to a St. Andrew’s Cross, had me feeling light headed.

  I turned my attention back to the bed and walked over to it. There were no pillows or blankets, just a simple black sheet. However, there was a pile of pillows on the floor in the corner; one even resembled a dog bed.

  I ran my hands across the sheets, imagining myself in this bed. Would my Sir take me here, claiming me as his? Or would he ask me to perform for him, as I perform for him at home? If he did take me, how would he do it? Would he fuck me hard, or would he make love to me? Somewhere in the penthouse, I heard a clock chime two, bringing me out of my musings. I had been there almost an hour and I still had not completed my assignment.

  When you are finished exploring the room, you will write in your journal. He hadn’t explained more, but when I looked around the room again, I noticed a small book on a table near the door. I walked over and picked it up, feeling the soft, blue velvet of the cover.

  Picking up the pen that had been lying alongside of it, I sat in a comfortable looking chair. I opened the book and found that he had already written in it. It was the same perfect penmanship from the letter in my apartment. Tell me your thoughts on the playroom. Tell me what you found that you think you will enjoy, and what you found that you are curious about.

  In my best penmanship, I wrote my reactions to the playroom. I wrote that I thought I would enjoy the ropes and handcuffs that I had found, and that I was curious about the nipple devices and the various whips, floggers, and paddles. When I finished, I set the book on the table next to my contract. I stood to leave and looked at the chair in horror. Where I had been sitting was a small wet spot. I had clearly soaked through my panties. And of most importance, you will treat the playroom with respect. You will always leave it exactly as you found it unless I tell you otherwise. It is your job to keep it clean. His words echoed through my head as I stared again at the spot. What was I going to do? I needed a rag. I slipped out of the playroom and back into the penthouse. I looked around for anything I could use, and the first thing I spotted was the clothing I had taken off. Grabbing my shirt and moving quickly back into the playroom, I wiped the spot until I was sure it looked exactly as it had. I stood up and gave the room one last glance, hoping that I would be back soon, and that the next time, my Sir would be here with me.

  Chapter 22

  Sir

  I called when she woke up, but kept it brief. I had things to do to make sure that tonight w
ould go as planned. Payton said that the boxes with the toys had been delivered to the playroom, so I had to go over there and unpack them. She could have done it for me, but I needed to know where everything was.

  I did take time out to watch Bec jog, though I kept far enough away from her that she never saw me. I made it back to my apartment in plenty of time to watch her do some chores and read.

  During this time, I took care of myself as well. I knew that no matter what I did, I would have an erection while in the playroom, but I needed to be as in control as possible. I used the light machine again for an hour even though I’d just gone yesterday, and I masturbated twice. Ironically, watching my butterfly in her apartment as she was cleaning and reading was sexy.

  Fantasizing about what could never be, I imagined coming into the apartment to find her cleaning, then walking up behind her, bending her over, and using her body for my pleasure. And if she was reading, I would have loved to take the book from her and read aloud while she sucked one orgasm after another from my cock. Oh the choices were endless, and yet all impossible, but I wouldn’t let it get me down today.

  Today, I would have my first scene with my butterfly. Today, I would push her to see how far we could take things. Today, she would give her body to me.

  When she went to the playroom, I waited in the apartment in the shadows. I watched her disrobe outside of the red door and enter in just her underwear. It was hard not to give into temptation and follow her in, but I compromised, and once she was in with the door closed, I allowed myself to explore her clothes.

  When I picked them up they were still warm, and I let out an audible groan. While I wanted to stay there and touch and smell her clothes, I also wanted to see what was going on in the playroom. Using the camera system I’d had installed, I stood in the control room, watching her explore the different pieces of furniture, as well as the toys and items used for punishment and pleasure.

  I continued to observe as she wrote in her journal, and then watched in amazement as she stood and looked back at the spot she’d been sitting in. It appeared that she had created a small puddle, but she was clever and cleaned it using her own shirt. I was pleased that she had remembered to keep the playroom pristine, although I would have to teach her how to clean it properly.

  Once she left, I entered the playroom quickly. Her arousal mixed with the smell of leather gave me an instant erection. I looked at the spot where she had been and groaned loudly. It was less than a second before I had my cock in my hand. “Oh, butterfly,” I moaned, stroking faster and gripping my cock tight, trying to hold off as long as I could before utter bliss took me.

  I didn’t last long, and with a guttural roar, thick streams of come shot from my cock onto the spot on the couch my butterfly had gotten wet earlier. I loved the idea of our juices mixing together. I allowed my imagination to take flight as I pictured my butterfly kneeling for me near the door.

  “Come here, butterfly,” I would say. She, of course, would crawl to me. “Do you see the mess you caused me to make with your intoxicating scent?” Her eyes would widen at the streaks of white on the leather of the seat. “Clean it,” I’d order, and when she looked up at me with a furrowed brow, I’d add, “with your tongue.”

  Her little pink tongue would dart out and flick at it, licking in long strokes. I’d watch as she would lap up the puddle, making it disappear into her sweet mouth.

  My own groan brought me out of my fantasy, and I quickly wiped away the evidence of my release. Tonight, we would be in this room together, and I would begin making some of my fantasies a reality.

  Later in the afternoon, I called and told her to be in the playroom at eight o’clock. I reminded her that she was to be nude.

  I had prepared the playroom for her arrival by lighting a few candles, which were scattered throughout the room, and setting out the toys that I would use on her in our first scene. I set out a glass dildo, a silver bullet, some rope, and nipple suction cups. Of course, I also put out a thick blindfold, a black leather collar, and a stainless steel leash. I wrote her a note, explaining the items.

  These items will be used tonight, butterfly. After becoming familiar with them, put on the blindfold and wait for me in the ready position on the bench.

  Most Doms would recommend that you start out slow with a new submissive and get to know each other, but this was different. My butterfly hadn’t come to the club looking for a Dom. She hadn’t asked to be my toy, and due to the amount of times she had to look up items on the internet, I was sure she didn’t know much about the BDSM lifestyle.

  That reason alone should have made me go slow, but for me it was the exact opposite. I didn’t want to know if one day she could come to love the lifestyle; I wanted to know now if it was for her or not. If it wasn’t, I’d have to give her up. As much as the thought tormented me, I’d have to let her go. It wouldn’t be fair to her, and it wouldn’t be fair to me. But if she did enjoy it, if she responded well to this, then tonight would only be a start and the real training would begin.

  I was dressed for comfort, wearing only black slacks—no shirt, shoes or socks. The moment I opened the door to the playroom, I was assaulted with her scent. It was a mixture of her shampoo, her perfume, and her sex. Yes, her sex. It had an aroma that called to my body. From across the room, I could see her wetness, and it only grew as I walked toward her.

  “What a beautiful butterfly,” I whispered into her ear, causing her to visibly shiver, sending wave after wave of her scent crashing into me.

  “Are you ready for this, little girl?” I asked, though it was clear she was more than excited and ready. It was a good sign.

  She nodded.

  I decided it was time to introduce the safe words to her. Some Doms used red, yellow and green, which were fine, and were universal, especially if you frequented clubs and changed subs often. But for me, and many other Doms, the relationship was intimate and warranted unique safe words. I’d put a great deal of thought into the words I wanted to use with my butterfly, just as I had done in choosing her name.

  “When my little butterfly is feeling safe and ready for me, she will tell me that she is on a lily. Do you understand?”

  She nodded again.

  “What flower are you on, butterfly? Speak.”

  “Lily, Sir,” she replied softly.

  “Good girl. Now, if butterfly becomes uncomfortable and wants me to slow down or needs to take a break, butterfly will say that she is on a rose. Roses have thorns, so when you think of roses, think of me having to slow down and be careful. What will butterfly say if she needs me to slow down? Speak.”

  “Rose, Sir.”

  “Good girl. And if butterfly needs me to stop completely, she will say mum. Mums are the flower of death. It will end what we are doing, and our session. Only say mum if you are sure you want me to stop. Do you understand? Speak.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good girl, now what flower are you on, butterfly?”

  “Lily, Sir,” she sighed, and it was like an invisible string ran from her lips to my dick, because with that one word, I was instantly hard.

  “That pleases me,” I said, running my fingertips along her cheek, allowing myself to touch her for the first time.

  She moaned as wetness coated her thighs.

  “Are you ready to please me with your body?”

  She didn’t respond other than a whimper.

  Encircling her neck with my hands, I fastened the thick leather collar around it. I then clasped a leash to the ring, the click echoing in the room.

  “When you enter this playroom, you are choosing to give yourself to me. When I place a collar around your neck, I am choosing to take you, to use you to please myself. You may use your safe words, but other than that, when you are wearing a collar in this room, I expect you to follow all of my instructions, eagerly and without hesitation, even if I may ask you to do something you have never done or may consider uncomfortable. You must recognize that I know what is b
est for you, and also keep in mind that your purpose is to please me. Are you ready to serve me? Speak.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her voice was breathy, arousing me further.

  Tugging gently on her leash, I commanded her to stand then led her over to the wide table in the center of the room. “Up.” Since she couldn’t see, I helped her find the step stool so she could get on the table.

  “Inspection position.” I spread her knees.

  Sliding my hand into her hair, a waft of her vanilla scented shampoo traveled to my nostrils. I grabbed tightly onto her silky brown locks and pulled her head back, taking an unnecessary breath that served to calm me.

  Bringing my lips to hers, I pressed softly. Instantly, she reacted by pressing back. That may have been acceptable when a woman kissed a man, but it was not acceptable in my playroom. When I kissed her, I was in control. I decided how and when we kissed. I tugged on her hair and held her in place.

  “Eager little slut, aren’t we?” I laughed, glad I was able to control myself. It was time to show her how kisses would be in my playroom.

  Holding her in place, I brought my lips to hers once again. She had learned and didn’t move this time. I ran my tongue along her lips and, like a good girl, she parted them, giving me the access I was silently demanding. At one time, Bocaj thought our saliva contained toxin. It turned out that wasn’t the case. When needed, our retractable fangs delivered the toxin, so there was no danger to my butterfly when giving her an open-mouthed kiss. As long as I was in full control, she was safe.

  I used my tongue to explore every inch of her mouth, memorizing it along with her intoxicating taste. I paused only to let her breathe. The entire time, she held perfectly still, allowing me to claim that part of her body as mine.

  I tore my mouth from hers and caressed first her face and then slowly down her neck to her breasts. I was still holding her head, so her back was arched slightly, her pert nipples pointing toward the ceiling. I palmed one gently and gave it a squeeze. When I pinched her nipples, she didn’t even flinch, and I knew then that she had just given me another part of her. I stifled a growl as I imagined all of the things I could do to and with these amazing breasts—the first being to taste them. I licked her nipple, and then claiming her breast as mine, I sucked it into my mouth. I was in complete control of myself the entire time. She, however, was not.