by Ravenna Tate
“Most of us believe so, yes. And, not to confuse you further, but there are switches as well. People who have a need to be both the top and the bottom of a dynamic.”
“I recall that from my reading.”
“Every Dominant, switch, or submissive I’ve spoken to has relayed a similar story. Their fantasies, needs, curiosities—whatever you want to label them—began when they were young. Some were younger than puberty age. They all spoke of not understanding them, or having anyone to talk to about them. The lucky ones found someone to discuss this lifestyle with. The rest of us floundered about until we found like-minded individuals.”
“That makes me feel less obscure. Thank you for sharing that with me.”
He covers my hand with his, and I tingle all over from his touch. Those ice blue eyes regard me with an expression that is both tender and lustful. “Macie, we’ve all felt like freaks. You’re not alone in this.”
And I’m done eating. I want him again, so badly I have room for nothing else. “I don’t want to be alone, Sir. Not anymore.”
We lock gazes for long moments. The air in the room is charged, as if a storm is brewing. Goosebumps break out over my body. Who is this man that he produces such effects?
“I don’t want you to be either.” He cuts his gaze to the empty plates on the cart. “Are you ready to be punished for your comment, Macie?”
A soft moan escapes my throat. “Yes, Sir. I sure am.”
Chapter Eight
Dakar rises and walks over to the toys he piled up earlier. At first, I think he’s going to simply choose one, but he picks up the bunch and carries them back to where they’re kept. While I admire his tight ass from behind, he replaces the toys and makes a show out of running his hands over the flogger falls, the paddles, and various other implements I’m hoping he ignores. Some of those whips look pretty damn deadly.
Finally, he pulls a long piece of dark silk off a hook, and then opens one of the narrow drawers. I have no clue what he removes because he wraps it in the silk before he turns around. He wanted me to notice him doing that.
“Am I allowed to ask, Sir?”
He shakes his head, a sexy grin on his face. “No. But I do need to ask if you’re all right with being blindfolded.”
“Um … I never really thought about it.”
“Your call, Macie.”
“I thought this was a punishment?”
“We don’t have a dynamic yet that would allow me to punish you at my discretion. As with everything tonight, this is negotiable. But that was a smart-ass comment.”
“It was, and I’m sorry for it, Sir.” Yet. He said yet! My pulse races. “I would love to try being blindfolded. Will you also restrain me?”
“No. I’d like to introduce this without the added sensation of restraints, because I have two surprises for you.”
It’s difficult not to clap my hands. I stand. “Where do you want me, Sir?”
“On your knees, beautiful girl.”
That voice! What it does to me is both surprising and thrilling. I drop to my knees. As he strolls toward me, my gaze drifts to his erect cock. I try not to stare, but really … how can I help it? He’s so damn beautiful.
“Would you like that inside you again tonight, Macie?”
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper, lifting my gaze to his eyes.
“If you’re a good girl, and at least try the surprises I have for you, I’ll think about fucking you again.”
Shivers run up and down my spine. It’s a huge mind game, but I love it because it’s so damn fun. Plus, the rewards are exquisite. “Thank you, Sir.”
He moves behind me and caresses my hair, forcing tiny moans from me once more. Something clatters softly on the cart. Two items, metallic and small, from the sound. Those must be the surprises. What are they? I resist the urge to turn around. It wouldn’t be any fun to peek, plus he might change his mind about the rest of this night if I do.
“Your safewords apply, Macie.” The silk moves into my field of vision and then everything is dark as he places the blindfold over my eyes and ties it behind my head. It’s not tight, but obviously I can’t see anything.
“Are you all right?” Is it my imagination that his voice is even sexier and more reassuring?
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl. I’m going to help you stand and walk. Are you ready?”
“Yes.” Shouldn’t he have had me do that before he put this on me?
I stand, but it’s a bit scary without being able to see. He’s right there, supporting me, and I swear his touch is different. Not only more authoritative, but goosebumps break out over my body again as he grasps my arm. “Trust me, Macie.”
Oh … now I get it! This isn’t only about messing with my head in a sexy way. It’s a trust issue. It has to be. If I can’t completely let go and trust him… Dare I go there? To be a submissive, one must have full faith in their Dominant. A relationship where one allows the other to tie them up, blindfold them, and use implements on their skin that could seriously wound them if they aren’t careful, demands trust at the very core of it.
“Walk straight ahead.” His arm is wrapped around mine. “I won’t let you fall or run into anything.”
“Yes, Sir.” The first few steps are slow because I’m still frightened. So instead, I concentrate on the sensations. His touch, the carpet under my bare feet, his scent, the lingering smell of earlier sex in the air, and the warmth coming from his body next to mine. Soon, I’m walking normally, certain that he won’t let anything happen to me. I do trust this man.
When we stop moving, he takes my left arm and raises it. My hand rests against a cylindrical wooden object. “Grasp the post with your hand, Macie.” I do as he says. He repeats the process with my right arm and hand. “Now take a step forward.” Once I do so, there’s a leather pad on which to rest my lower abdomen.
“You’re safe, Macie. I can reach every part of your body. Step apart a bit. You aren’t going to fall.” I move my feet shoulder-width apart. “How does that feel?”
“Great, Sir.”
“Do you feel supported and balanced enough to stand like this?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl. Safeword if you need to.”
I let out a shaky moan as his hands brush my nipples. They move lower, over my abdomen and down to caress my pussy. “You’re soaking wet again.”
“I can’t help that, Sir. You do that to me.”
Soft kisses tease my upper back and neck, while his fingers play with my clit and slip down my ass crack. “You make it very hard for me to concentrate on play, Macie.”
I’m not able to form words right now. Instead, I concentrate on the sensations, which are so fucking enhanced with this blindfold on! This is heavenly. His touch is more sensual. I’ve got goosebumps all over once more. My pussy contracts in tiny spasms as he continues to torture me with kisses and soft touches.
When his hands and mouth are gone, I gasp as a sensation of loss washes over me.
“I’m right here, Macie. You’re safe.” Tiny pinpricks caress my left forearm. “What do you think?”
“What is that, Sir?”
“Not yet. I want you to experience it first. Just enjoy it, Macie.” That voice! Was it always this deep and evocative?
I relax my muscles as the implement rolls up and down each arm, sending shock waves through me. It doesn’t hurt, but I definitely know it’s there. The effect produces shivers up and down my spine, plus I’m hyper-aware of every sensation coming at me. His breathing is audible, there is even more heat coming from his body, and a faint, musky scent permeates my senses.
My pussy is so wet again that the juices trickle onto my upper thighs. My skin tingles. Whatever he’s using on my skin slides down my left side and across my nipple. I gasp as tiny jolts of electricity rush straight to my throbbing clit.
“You like that.” His voice is sexy and teasing. I shudder and moan softly as it washes over me.
He repeats
the gesture, moving the toy over my right nipple. Again and again, he alternates teasing my nipples with the toy, as well as the undersides of my breasts and my abdomen. Each time he lifts my breast to use the toy under it, I sigh as erotic images fill my mind.
As if reading those thoughts, now he plants soft kisses on my nipples, in addition to continuing with the toy on them. His tongue flicks over them. My moans are loud, and I rock my hips in rhythm to his play. Kiss, lick, tiny pinpricks, over and over, until I’m out of my mind with the need to have his cock inside me once more.
“Had enough yet?”
“No, Sir. Please. Please don’t stop.”
His soft chuckle sends my pulse racing. The pinprick toy is gone, and when he touches me again, it’s with what I swear is a dull knife edge. He runs it up and down my left forearm. “Can you guess what this is?”
“Feels like a butter knife, but not a serrated edge.”
“Very good, Macie. Close. It won’t cut your skin. Do you like it?”
“Yes, Sir.” This one hurts a bit more than the other toy, but I love the sensation it produces. Like I’m in danger, poised right at the edge. It’s exhilarating!
“I love knife play, Macie. But that’s something we would work up to because I use real ones when I do it.”
“Oh…” The images those words conjure up! I would love that. And, the way he said it makes it appear he wants to play with me in the future. I smile as the possibilities dance through my mind. Maybe this isn’t over when the sun comes up? I dare to hope once more.
He runs the edge of the knife over my right arm and down my side. “Would you like that? To play in the future?”
Yes! Yes! Yes! “Yes, Sir. Very much.” My voice comes out in a hoarse whisper. My heart is racing now, and sweat breaks out along my hairline. The knife passes across my nipples, under my breasts, and down my abdomen. He brushes it across my labia, and I gasp, but not from pain. The shockwaves of desire it sends racing through me bring the next climax close.
“Tell me what you’re feeling, Macie.”
“I’m close to coming, Sir.”
“Excellent.” The knife edge teases my clit, moves along my wet labia, and tortures the wounds on my ass. He brushes it along my entire body, up my back, down my legs, and to my upper body once more. I’m trembling now, and moaning loudly. My hands are slick from sweat, and I have to grip the posts tighter to prevent them from slipping off the wooden surface.
The pinprick toy is back. He’s using both implements now, alternating, teasing me with each of them. My skin is alive with the sensations. I vocalize both moans and words, begging him to fuck me. He says nothing, merely continues brushing the toys over every inch of my body, until I’m warm all over and every touch is intensified, almost to the point of pain.
I’m at the edge. If he lays the toys on me one more time, I’ll explode with the need to be fucked. The desire to come is overwhelming. How he senses this, or if he does, is beyond my understanding. I’m about to safeword when he stops.
He wraps his arms around me from behind, and his erect dick pushes against my ass. “Macie … I need to fuck you again.”
“Yes. Yes! Please, Sir. Please fuck me. Fuck me hard.”
“Oh!” He steps in front of me and kisses me, shoving his tongue into my mouth. I release the posts and wrap my arms around him, hanging on for dear life. The blindfold is still on, and while I want him to remove it so I can gaze into his beautiful eyes, I also imagine how damn sexy it would be to fuck with it on, and my pussy contracts hard.
I’m coming, simply from imagining being taken without being able to see the man fucking me. This night cannot possibly get any better.
Dakar lifts me into his arms. I’m still blindfolded. He carries me, and when he lays me down, I’m on his bed. “Be right back. Don’t move.”
His voice is raspy and gruff. I listen to him pad across the room and put on a condom. Every nuance of sound is magnified. My skin is on fire from the toys. When he climbs onto the bed, I cry out in pleasure as he covers my body with his and kisses me again.
“Macie, I’m going to fuck you so hard.”
“Yes. Please, Dakar. Fuck me. Make me yours.”
When he moans softly into my ear, tears spill over my lashes and wet the blindfold. He moves his mouth over my neck, planting tiny kisses there. Strong hands grasp my breasts again, and after licking each nipple gently, he moves down my torso and spreads my legs.
“You’re so wet for me.”
This time, I don’t speak. Instead, I give over to the emotions washing through me. He licks my clit until the orgasm that began a moment ago continues, rocking me to the core with contractions. His mouth moves back up my body, and when he kisses me, I taste my pussy juices.
“Baby … you feel so damn good in my arms.”
I cling to him as he slips his cock into my pussy. There is no pain this time, only intense pleasure that prolongs the climax and sends me into ecstasy. He removes the blindfold, and I gaze into his beautiful face, gasping at the emotion I glimpse in his eyes. Is this real?
“You are so beautiful.”
“So are you.” He sits back on his heels and massages my clit as he fucks me hard. Muscles strain. Veins stand out on his neck. I’m unable to process anything so I simply let go. Another orgasm begins. My weak moans join his loud ones as the contractions milk him and send me into ecstasy once again.
“Oh … oh, God! Oh, Macie … I’m coming, baby.”
I hold onto his arms as he fucks me deep and rough now. I’m sore, but I don’t care. This is exquisite. I don’t want it to end. When it does, I’m limp with exhaustion and happiness. He lies over me and wraps me in his arms. Our bodies are slick, and our breathing fast. His heart beats against my chest.
“That was so incredible,” I whisper.
His only response is a soft sound.
I close my eyes and imagine we’re lovers, and this is our home. He rolls onto his side and pulls me with him, gathering me against his body once more. A soft kiss grazes my face. “Sleep with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good.” Dakar pulls me even closer. “Stay here with me.”
If this man only knew how much I want to. Forever.
Chapter Nine
The cab has been waiting for ten minutes, but Dakar is still kissing me goodbye. “I had such an amazing time.” It’s the third time I’ve said that.
“Me, too. I wish you didn’t have to go.” It’s the fourth time he’s said it. “I’ll call you later.” He’s said that, too. I wish I believed him. Why don’t I?
A loud, long horn blast breaks the spell. Dakar shoots the cab driver a thunderous look. “I’ll call you later, Macie.”
“All right.” I have to climb into the cab. There’s no other choice unless I want to walk home, and he’s too exhausted to drive. The night is over. It’s time for me to leave. I don’t want to, and his words and facial expressions tell me he doesn’t want me to, but now he’s helping me into the back seat and closing the door.
I roll down the window and lean out. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, beautiful. I’ll talk to you soon.”
The driver is pulling away, and I resist the urge to keep my head out the window. Instead, I turn around and glance out the back, watching the man I’ve fallen head over heels in love with standing in the street, waving. I wave back as tears spill over my lashes, and I don’t look away until the cab turns the corner.
It isn’t real. How can it be? People don’t fall in love in one night. Yes, they do. All right. In movies and books they do, but not in real life. Not in my life, at any rate.
But you just did.
Yes, that’s true. I sure did.
If he really wanted to see me again, why didn’t he simply set a date and time to do so? Telling a woman, “I’ll call you later,” is code for, “I’m trying to ease away from this by making you believe I want to see you again, because I’m too much of a coward to tell yo
u that I really don’t want to.” I should know. I’ve been there enough times.
What about all those things he said last night? Were they just words? And that look in his eyes … the one filled with tenderness and longing? Was that all for show? Is there another woman coming to the club tonight as part of the experiment? Will Dakar woo her and fuck her, too? Will he look at her that way, and will he tell her, “I’ll call you,” the next morning?
God. I’m such a damn fool! I built this up into something it will never be, all because a drop-dead gorgeous man paid attention to me.
Guilt washes over me. No. That’s not fair. And, it’s not entirely true. He didn’t only pay attention to me. That’s not all he did.
He touched me in ways no one ever has. He made love to me in ways I’ve only ever fantasized about. He introduced me to impact play, and now I will die if I never have that again. It’s become a drug. I can no longer live without it.
Also, he introduced me to submissiveness, and I’m both stunned and tickled pink to realize that, too, is something I want and need in my life. It always has been. I simply never understood the longing, or had a name for it. But I do now. I am a submissive. I want to be Dakar’s submissive.
I still feel his hands and mouth on me. I sense his cock inside me. My entire body is both sore and tingling with desire. Nothing in my life will ever be the same again. No man will compare to Dakar Garcia. And, by the time the cab drops me off at my apartment building and I climb those stairs, I am utterly convinced I will never see the man of my dreams again.
I take a quick shower because if I lie down with his scent all over me, I will wake up with an empty sensation that will not go away until I no longer smell him or sense his touch on me. When I do finally wake, I’m shocked to find it’s already afternoon. I don’t have to work in the morning because I took the week off. I had a feeling I’d be too tired or perhaps too sore to work. I was right.
But two hours later, I wish I was going to work in the morning. I have nothing to do for an entire week except remember last night. Nothing interests me. I eat only because I’m hungry, but the food tastes flat. None of the TV shows I usually love to watch hold my attention. I pick up my knitting—my latest craze—but I keep dropping stitches and getting lost in the simple pattern, so I return it to the basket.