by Cee Smith
“Sir!”
“Let me hear you, Indigo,” he yelled out over the sound of the flogger smacking against my skin.
He struck again and I slipped into free fall. I closed my eyes against the burst of light that exploded. A scream echoed out across the room. It sounded like it came from me, but all I could focus on were the spasms wracking my body like explosions detonating throughout me.
He took my ass in both hands, massaging the areas his flogger touched most. His mouth at my ear sent soothing words that made goosebumps reemerge.
“Fifteen strokes. I think we can get you down to three. What do you think?”
“Whatever you say, sir.”
His breathy laugh drifted across my neck before he straightened out taller to undo my cuffs. He took his time caressing each wrist as he unbuckled me, and when he dropped down to undo my ankles, I couldn’t help but watch as he knelt. Everett looked up, and I became hostage to memories of that first night on the train. I could have never imagined that months later this is where we’d be, but being there with him, watching him unstrap me with that look in his eyes—a look that spoke of utter devotion—drew every emotion to the forefront.
Warm hands encompassed my ankle before he unstrapped the last leg.
“How was that?” he asked. He sat down, drawing me down across his lap while he awaited my response.
“It was…I can’t really describe it. It was beautiful. I felt at peace. No, that’s silly. That’s not the right word—”
“It’s not silly if that’s what you felt.”
He rubbed my back and I succumbed to the comfort, letting my body drift through the feelings that came over me. Peace was a silly word, but that was what I felt. It wasn’t really a feeling I’d felt before. The closest thing being to that first exhale of breath after realizing I’d passed my last finals. Like a weight being lifted from my chest, allowing me to breathe deeply for the first time in years. That’s what the moment felt like, like I could finally breathe easily.
His hands worked their way up my spine, relieving the tenseness that had either built from my orgasm or lack of mobility. Swiftly but deftly, his hands worked me over.
“Can I touch you, sir?”
“You may.”
I just wanted to touch his chest, feel the machine beating for him. Maybe I wanted to feel if he was affected, but when I turned to meet his face it was his lips my eyes fell to. I wanted to relive the kiss I’d experienced the day before. I wanted just a taste. His chest was hot where my hands pressed against him as I inched closer. I stretched them out letting them brush past the collar of his shirt to reach his neck just below his jawline. I watched his face for a reaction, expecting at any moment he would revoke his consent and remove me from his lap. Yet, he didn’t. My hands clutched the sides of his neck seeking purchase as I drew in nearer. I watched his eyes, looking for a warning, any signal that would tell me to stop. There wasn’t anything there in his eyes but my reflection. My lips closed over his, but I didn’t kiss him.
No.
He kissed me.
As Everett pulled me over to the bed, his lips captured mine in a heated kiss. The touch of his tongue against mine felt like he was searching for my soul. Hands were all over me, my hair, my neck, my breasts, my hips. He worked over me feverishly as if he was turning my skin inside out just to touch the part of me that I still claimed as my own. I’d never seen him like this. It was so out of character for the man so typically in control.
His hair slid out of its perfectly coiffed style and blanketed the side of my face. I reached up to the silky strands, pulling him deeper into the kiss, admiring the passionate man lurking beneath his usually distant persona. Time sped up in those moments where I was lost to the fury of his passion. I slipped my hands down his body, searching for the heat that’d been branding my side, the rigid length that I remembered punctuating the back of my throat with every pulse of his release. I reached for it now hoping to fuse the remaining gap between us.
My hands closed around him, the thin cloth of his pants acting as a flimsy barrier between my touch and his skin. His hands pushed down between us and slammed around my wrists, reminding me of my previous shackled position.
“On your knees, now!”
Quick hands worked to right his disheveled appearance. Once again he became the distant Suit I remembered from our first night. The one whose eyes I didn’t dare meet.
“I’m sorry for my momentary lapse of control. It won’t happen again. Shoulders back. Eyes up,” he barked. I adjusted my position and waited. Like a dog lapping up its owner’s approval, I sat waiting for those green eyes to blaze over me.
“Hands behind your back.”
After his final instruction and once he found my body to his liking, he moved back to what I began referring to as his treasure trove. It was the same dresser he frequently returned to for anything he needed while I was in the room with him.
He returned with cuffs in hand, not the shiny metal kind police officers carry around, but the kind I’d seen late at night while surfing the archives of Tumblr pages—some of which held the kinkiest images I’d ever seen. Just the thought that he might do any of those things I’d seen online flooded my core with an overflowing warmth and made the muscles of my stomach pinch.
One wrist after another was lifted and cuffed, and he finished by roping something through them, like a corset binding my wrists together to rest at the base of my back. He dropped my wrists there and returned to standing in front of me. Wedging a foot between my knees, he adjusted the space between my legs, allowing the brush of air to sweep gently across my folds.
Only he remained in my field of vision. All I saw was the soft black leather belt I imagined across my ass, those same thick thighs I once felt beneath my palms, those large hands with the appearance of blood rushing wildly through his body. Liquid pooled along my cheeks, preparing my mouth for what I could only hope would happen next.
He took his time though. Every move was methodical. Measured. Predetermined.
Hands brushed across my hair, trailing down my cheek and over my mouth. So simple, yet filled with a gentility I would have never expected from him. I didn’t need to look into his eyes to understand the feeling he was trying to convey. I felt it with every caress of his fingers.
I am adored. I am a thing to be cherished, to be admired. I am the dancing ballerina in his jewelry box, and this is where I come alive. This is where I dance.
He unbuckled his belt. Pushed his pants and briefs low enough down his thighs to release his large shaft. He looked uncomfortably hard, the evidence of his arousal already slipping from the tip of him.
The fingers of one hand kissed along my jaw, while his other hand pumped long and slow, hypnotizing me with the magnetic sight. If the hand at my jaw pulled me into him, I wasn’t aware. I only knew I was closer when he brushed my lips and the moisture from my tongue-drenched lips was visible on his skin. He moved in closer, now brushing himself along the rim of my mouth. Inch by inch his hand slipped higher leaving himself available to my mouth.
He sat down at the edge of the bed and spread his legs, carving out a place for me at his feet. My cheeks flooded as I took him into my mouth. He glided across my tongue like silk. Without the use of my hands, I worked to take him deeper into my mouth. I swallowed around his length and probed the base of him with my tongue while suctioning my cheeks. The increased suction caused the muscles in his thighs to flex.
“Fuck, I forgot how amazing your lips feel around my cock. So good, precious,” he said, lifting his hips from the bed and running his fingers along the edge of my hairline. He brushed my hair away from my face and held it at the crown of my head as he pumped himself deeper into my mouth.
“Just like that,” he praised as I readjusted my throat to accept him deeper. His shaft twitched along my tongue, releasing beads of pre-cum. Everett didn’t continue pumping my face as I expected though. Instead, he pulled away from my mouth and pulled me up on the bed.
With my hands still tied behind my back, he positioned me head down, with my ass in the air facing him. Blood rushed my cheeks as, once again, I was vulnerable to his perusal.
“Such a beautiful sight, you bound and ready for my cock. You’ve been very patient, haven’t you? Such a good girl.”
I could tell how close he was by the proximity of his body heat. It licked up my spine and curled against my neck, dancing along all of the places I wanted his hands to touch. The palm of his hand braced against the curve of my lower back while his other hand fell down to my cleft, sliding through my folds and gathering up the proof of my desire.
“Does sucking cock always make you this wet?”
“No, sir.”
“Then what?”
“Only you do, sir,” I hid my face in the covers, embarrassed by the truth of my words. Even before I began working at Digital Monument, just the reminder of sitting at his feet and tying his shoes would elicit this reaction in me.
“Good answer.”
My body had been waiting for this moment for months, but my mind was still disbelieving that I was actually there, beneath the man who told me “no” at every opportunity. I needed to watch him as he entered me. I still needed convincing that this wasn’t some elaborate dream. I lifted my hips, creating a tunnel where I could watch him as he entered me.
There was a rustle of the condom wrapper; rushed hands snapped the latex in place. Fingers pressed into my hip, releasing anticipation across my skin. He clutched harder, and I watched as he pushed into me. The initial contact made my body shiver. But that didn’t stop his momentum. He forged on as if he wanted me to feel the full extent of our bodies so perfectly molded together. Everett shoved all the way inside of me, filling me up so full, the breath in my lungs froze. Balancing along the edge of pleasure and pain, I moaned into the sheets. I clenched down on him, welcoming him in deeper, needing to eliminate all of the space that remained between us. There would be no separation between us while we were together like this. Everett seemed to feel the same because he didn’t pull back and thrust in once more. No, he continued to drive as far into me as possible, his grip bruising my hips as he fucked me harder.
Once aware of how deep he could drive into me, he pulled out and began thrusting, his hips pumping furiously into me until he bottomed out with each forward momentum. The headboard beat against the wall. Sands of mortar fell from between the bricks, cascading to the floor like a waterfall. Everett thrust harder and a scream popped from my throat.
“That’s it, precious. Let me hear you,” he gritted out between feathered breaths. The sound of his laborious breaths sent a fire through my belly. I burrowed my chest further into the silken sheets and wiggled my ass to encourage him to go deeper.
My ass flared hot as his hand came down hot and quick against my skin, “I fuck you. You don’t fuck me, Indigo.”
“Sir? Please.”
“Are you ready to come?”
“Yes, oh yes.” The mass of sheets surrounding me swallowed my pleas.
“I thought you might say that.”
I could hear the smirk in his voice, that knowing retort that usually sounded so smug. I now knew it as absolute confidence from a man that could make me go from 0 to 60 with just a look from those crystalline eyes.
His hand slid from my hip, slipping its way to my cleft.
“Oh, God,” I moaned as he began thumbing my clit in time with his thrusts. I wanted to push harder into his strumming fingers and pull back at the same time—the sparks shooting up my body were going haywire with every touch of his fingers. The cloud of electricity rolled through me like a hurricane, pulling everything into its depths.
Blackness consumed me. A shrill scream moved through me. I ceased to exist outside of the orgasm racking my body. The hurricane had taken me.
I came to, sprawled out against Everett’s body.
“I’m so sorry. That’s twice now I’ve fallen asleep on you.”
“Perhaps a lesser man would be affected by this. It’s common to fall asleep after play. It’s exhaustive on the body and mind.”
“How long have you been, you know, a dom?”
“I think it’s safe to say I was a dom before I knew what being a dom was. I’ve always thrived on control in every aspect of my life, and when I found this place, it became a second home to me.”
“Do you ever have regular sex?”
“No. It’s just not in my nature to have regular sex, as you put it. If you’re asking if this is the only place I fuck, then no. I probably should have made this clear earlier, but I don’t take on more than one sub at a time. Which reminds me, we should probably discuss birth control.”
“Oh. I’m on it.”
“Good. When is the last time you’ve had a medical exam?”
“After my ex and I broke up. I’m clean. If that was what you were planning on asking next.”
He nodded his head in affirmation and began rolling the end of my hair around his fist. The sight drew my mind from the conversation until he spoke up again, breaking through my daze.
“I’m clean as well. I can provide you papers.”
“That’s not necessary. If you say you’re clean, I trust you.”
“Good. Very good, precious. Because the next time my cock sinks into your pussy, I want to feel all of you around me.”
His eyes captured mine and I shivered at the thought of feeling him completely inside me.
“Do you ever date your subs?”
“Indigo—”
“What? I was just asking. I was curious if that was common or if it’s solely based on our circumstances.”
“I told you this is all I can offer you,” he said. He eased out from underneath me and began to redress, seemingly putting an end to our conversation. That was the first time I asked him about it, but it wouldn’t be the last. Being relegated to his sometimes mistress wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. I didn’t know it at the time, but from the first moment I laid eyes on him, I had given myself over to him. No takesies backsies.
Tuesday, September 29th
I sat on the other side of his desk, right across from the spot where I had dropped on all fours with my asshole facing him like a bullseye. The thought made me cringe, distracting me from our daily meeting. Honestly, I was distracted every time I faced him. Twice a week at 6:30 p.m. I met him, catching little glimpses of the man behind the armor, but every day from 8:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m., he worked diligently on rebuilding the wall between us. It appeared there was no middle ground for Everett, no gray area where he could be both men. What was it like to be Everett? To have everything so perfectly compartmentalized?
“Ms. Ericson? You know how little I like repeating myself.”
“Yes, I’m sorry, Mr. Belford,” I jumped in my chair, bracing myself against the man who cracked the other kind of whip—the kind that didn’t leave my skin tinged pink and my body hot with want.
“As I was saying, I like the mock-ups you and Ed handed in. I’ve got a meeting with Oaken this afternoon. Which reminds me, I won’t be able to make it tonight—”
“You’re canceling?” I questioned, sweeping aside the priorities of my job and going straight for the glaring sign that said he would be missing our scheduled time tonight.
“Yes, I have a dinner arrangement tonight.”
“So, I won’t see you until Thursday.”
He chortled, probably laughing at the shock I wore on my face like makeup. “It’s not like you won’t see me here tomorrow.”
My lip felt raw between my clenching teeth. He expected me to go a week without subbing for him? I felt like an addict suddenly aware of my sober life—the one where I went to and from work like a good college graduate, where I called my mom and checked in like a responsible adult. In that moment, the gaping hole in my life was obvious. It was a hole that I set aside for Everett to fill, like a lonely dinner table with a reserved sign waiting for him to show up. Hurt swelled up inside of me, followed by a fire of
determination. I just needed to find the man who existed somewhere on the other side of his desk and outside the four walls of his sexual sanctuary.
Who is the real Everett Belford?
I put that thought aside to come back to at a later time. Preferably when the man in question wasn’t staring at me as if he were waiting for a response.
“OK,” I said to fill the vacancy that stretched in the void of conversation.
“Text me if anything comes up.”
I nodded and got up from the chair. Halfway to the door was when he called out, “If this meeting goes as planned, I’ll be filling the team in on who our client is tomorrow.”
Was that supposed to be some consolation? Now I could share the secret that Ed had been pressing me about for the last few weeks? Something he had inquired after just that morning.
Not another word left my lips as I exited his office. My mind was somewhere off thinking about that dinner he was supposedly going to. He said he only takes on one sub at a time, but he didn’t say anything about seeing other people.
As the day progressed all I kept thinking about were those images I’d found on the internet—the ones where some lithe blonde with high cheekbones and perky tits held onto his arm. She wore wedding white, and behind those shiny eyes, I could see she’d already picked out the name of their firstborn. I imagined their future filled with starched clothes and polished smiles.
He couldn’t be much more than a decade older than me, but seeing him sometimes made me feel like I was still playing with crayons while he was running a multimillion dollar company. My obsession with him felt irrational, juvenile, unfulfilling, yet there was a mystery there, something that called to me, despite how off-putting he acted.
Memories of his hand on my knee in the cab or our research at the museum, the fleeting moments where he lost himself to me—those were the crumbs that I was left holding onto. That was the man who had my mind spinning in circles around him, the vision of him that kept me up at night, fully awake and cognizant of my despair.
Serpentine thoughts slithered through the holes left eroded by the truth of our relationship. The fact was, we didn’t have one. Aside from those two nights a week, I was left without anything to tide me over beside the hunger my body had for his; the memories of those few hours a week where I felt like I was more than a stranger he happened to meet one random night three months ago. In those hours spent at Fetish, I was a vessel to fulfill his need. The embodiment of his control. My pleasure was the match, igniting the blaze within him. The more time I spent with Everett, the deeper I fell into his world, but what I wanted more than anything was to have a part of him in mine.