by Alice Gaines
She tugged the belt of her robe tighter around her and crossed the threshold. No wonder he’d spent so much time setting up. Mirrors stood along the far wall, positioned to show off whatever took place on the bed. A vertical one stood near the closet.
“Where the heck did you get all this?” she said.
“Stashed in the closet, not that I have to answer your questions,” he answered.
She eyed him as she walked farther into the room. Besides his odd costume, he was definitely sporting a new attitude. As she went by the table, she glanced down to discover it held an assortment of objects that hadn’t been there before. More leather straps, a dildo, and a peacock feather among them.
“Over here,” he said from where he stood by the bed.
She joined him and discovered what he expected her to wear. A leather bustier with garters and black thigh-high stockings. Beside the bed sat a pair of shoes with platforms and impossibly high heels. “You want me to put these on?”
“I’m ordering you to.”
“I beg your pardon.” She stared up at him.
He put his hands on his hips and met her gaze. “I’m in charge here.”
“But I—”
He held his hand up to silence her. “I don’t want to hear anything about money and who’s paying who.”
“Whom,” she corrected.
“If I say who, it’s who.”
“Look, Brent—”
Before she could get another word out, he pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth in a rough kiss. He’d always been gentle before, but now he asserted himself. You could say dominated. She shouldn’t find that sexy, but the concept of shouldn’t didn’t seem to apply any longer. Instead of pulling back, she leaned into him, taking more. Her breasts crushed against his chest, the nipples stiffening. Rising up on her toes, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as their mouths tangled for domination.
He won. She couldn’t compete with his strength and size. He literally swept her off her feet, making her feel dainty and small. Within moments, she’d given in, letting him take over. Such a delicious surrender.
When he had her head spinning, he released her, setting her on her feet. Her lips felt swollen, and she had to take a few seconds to reorient herself. Gentle, understanding Brent had become another person. Not just the clothing, but his commanding presence.
“Now, then,” he said. “Time to get dressed.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Not until you’ve gotten into that.” He nodded toward the bustier.
What would it hurt? If wearing a ridiculous outfit would get her more of those kisses—and one would assume, a great deal more than kisses—why not? No one in the lab would ever find out.
She removed her robe and draped it over the bed. She’d never worn anything like the bustier, but she picked it up and wrapped it around her middle. Brent reached to her back and did up the hooks. It cinched her waist and pushed up her breasts. When she arranged them inside, they nearly bulged out of the top.
“That’s more like it,” he said. “The stockings next.”
She had to sit on the bed for that, and he took a few steps back, crossed his arms over his chest, and watched her. Just for fun, she gave him a show as she gathered one stocking up in her hands, stuck her toes into the end, and unfurled the silky material up to her thighs. With her leg pointed upward, she gave him a good view of her crotch.
“You’re trying to make me hot,” he said.
“Is it working?”
“You tell me.” He reached into his pants, adjusting his cock. The snug material showed the outline of his hard-on. Large and tempting, as usual.
Smiling, she repeated the show with the second stocking. She could almost feel the intensity of his gaze on her pussy. Now with both nylons on, she fastened the garters. He hadn’t given her any panties or a skirt, so it appeared he wanted to keep her pussy naked. Naked and available for his erection. Neither of them would have to undress to fuck. He’d only have to undo his fly. No more than thinking of it made her wet. God, he was sexy.
“Now, the shoes,” he said.
“I can’t walk in those things.”
“Then I’ll carry you,” he said. “Put them on.”
Oh, he’d become a take-charge kind of guy, for sure. Would he take charge of her pleasure as well? What would that feel like? She’d probably find out in the next minutes.
She stepped into the shoes, and after a few tense seconds, she stopped teetering on the heels. They made her feet look tiny and her legs yards and yards long. No wonder women loved wearing them. She took careful steps toward the closet and the full-length mirror there. The sight that greeted her was even more remarkable than Brent’s appearance when he’d allowed her into the bedroom.
She looked like sin on wheels, with her breasts swelling above the top of the bustier and her legs clad in the black stockings. When Brent came up behind her, she stood almost as tall as he was. And she looked lean and sexy as she never had before.
“See why I wanted you to wear that?” he said.
“I think maybe.”
“I have plans for you.” He produced a metal bracelet and clasped it around her wrist. As he repeated the action with her other arm, she lifted her wrist to check out the first one. It was thick with rhinestones and had a metal loop attached to it. It fit too tightly for her to pull her hand out of it.
“I think you’d better explain this,” she said.
“I’m taking over. You’ll follow my instructions.”
“Is this your experiment?”
“It is. We can discuss the results later.” He ran his arms around her waist and pulled her back against him. “Here are the rules. Number one: you’ll do what I say, when I say it.”
“Oooh, a caveman.”
“Your own, personal Neanderthal,” he said. “Rule number two, you’re not allowed to have an orgasm.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. I came here for orgasms.”
He slid his hand over her belly and into her crotch hairs. “You’re already wet.”
“Yes, and if you touch my clit, I’ll come.”
“No you won’t because I told you not to.” He nibbled on her earlobe, and his breath slid hot into her ear. It shimmied through her nervous system all the way to the sensitive place between her legs. The place where his fingers now burrowed.
“I don’t understand your logic,” she said.
He stroked her pussy lips gently from the front to back and then the reverse. Whimpering, she leaned back against him.
“You’re going to have to give me your complete trust,” he said.
Did she have any choice? She’d made progress, but could she be sure she’d come far enough? He could be right that when she went back to her “real” life, she’d experience all the same hang-ups and uncertainties that had brought her here. Why not take this walk on the wild side? She might discover things about herself and her sexual response if she stepped outside her comfort zone. As long as she didn’t have to take more than ten steps in these shoes.
“Time’s up,” he said. “We’re doing this my way.”
Nearly lifting her off the floor, he turned her in his arms and settled her against his chest. With one finger, he lifted her chin so she had to stare up into his eyes. From this close, their soft brown color showed golden highlights, and he curved his lips into the wicked smile of a man who held all the cards.
“I get to do anything I want to your body,” he said. “But you don’t get to climax.”
He said that simply enough, but it was really two propositions. The first gave him total permission over her body. She’d never grant that to anyone in reality, of course, but this was play; if he did anything she truly didn’t like, he knew she’d report him to management. So, okay, for the purposes of this experiment, she could go with that.
His second statement—that she wasn’t allowed to climax—made less sense, unless he was pulling some double-whammy reve
rse psychology on her. If so, did she win the game by doing as he said . . . resisting orgasm? After all, their success required her to come often and hard. Or did she win by defying him and climaxing whenever the hell she wanted to? Could she even control her response well enough to determine the outcome? Lord, he had her confused.
He waved a finger under her nose. “You can stop that right now.”
“What? I wasn’t doing anything.”
“You’re thinking, and that’s what got you into trouble to begin with.”
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to stop thinking,” she said.
“I’ll show you.” He kissed her again with the same ferocity he’d used a few moments before. Her body responded just as it had the last time: total surrender. No, not surrender. That implied losing in a contest. Total abandon. She gave up pondering and cogitating and anything else that interfered with the undiluted sensations of his mouth on hers. His body pressed against her everywhere. Her nipples had grown sensitive to the touch of the bustier against them.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hung on while she answered him with her lips and tongue. She even nibbled on his full lower lip, seeking and finding the honey of his breath. When that wasn’t enough, she dipped beneath his chin to kiss his throat, her nose rubbing against the stubble on his jaw. He was absolutely delicious, and she couldn’t devour him quickly enough. She let her hands roam over his shoulders and down his chest as her fingers passed over cool leather and his heated skin.
“Hey.” He took her upper arms in his hands and held her away. “I thought I told you I’m in charge here.”
Breathing hard, she stared at his body, right down to the outline of his erection. All she could think of was want. I want. He’d shut off everything in her brain but the most primitive pleasure centers.
“There’s one last thing we have to settle before we go on,” he said. “You have to choose a word.”
“A safe word?” Lord, what was she getting herself into?
“In a way, but it won’t make me stop. When you say it, I’ll do anything you want.”
He was staring at her as if what she said next could determine her future. With her mind so addled by sexual need, she could only think of one word. “Brent.”
For a moment, his expression softened. “My name?”
“You’re who I want.”
“Okay, then.” He waved a finger under her nose. “No climaxing. Resist, no matter what I do to you. Use the word only out of desperation.”
“What—”
Before she could finish whatever the hell she’d planned to say, he picked her up as if she weighed nothing at all. The shoes fell from her feet, but they’d already done their work. They’d turned her into an ultra sexual being, ready for anything. He could take the game deeper from here. She’d given him permission.
He carried her to the bed, but instead of stretching out next to her, he stood on top of the comforter and helped her to a standing position as well. Their weight made a dent in the mattress, but it held up well enough for him to reach upward and pull down a chain from the high bedpost. He used the clasp to fasten it to one of her wristbands. Her brain had barely registered that fact before he’d pulled down another chain and repeated the procedure with her other hand. Tugging on the other ends, he adjusted the bonds so that she stretched out, her arms off to the sides and upward against the bedposts.
His task completed, he knelt on the bed and smiled up at her. “Look at yourself in the mirrors.”
She did, and again she hardly recognized herself. The skin of her neck and chest was flushed with excitement, and her breasts rose and fell with her ragged breathing. Unconsciously, she’d spread her legs wide as if inviting his touch everywhere, especially between her legs. She’d offered herself to him, all right. She’d made herself completely vulnerable. She didn’t have to go through this charade if she didn’t want to, as they both well knew. She obviously wanted to. Very much.
“Now, then,” he said. “I’m going to do the ultimate to you. Keep your attention on the mirrors, and do not climax.”
The ultimate could mean only one thing, and sure enough, he settled himself between her legs and parted her pussy lips with his fingers. The first pass of his tongue over her clit would have knocked her to her knees if the chains hadn’t been holding her up. With a whimper, she let her eyes drift shut.
He stopped immediately, pulling his face away from her mound. “I told you to look at yourself in the mirror.”
“Right.” The word came out like a whisper, using what little breath she could get into her lungs. As she looked on, he took his place again and tipped his face up to her sex. This time when his tongue found her hot button, she watched the movements of his head. Her vision blurred, but she managed to keep her eyes open.
What a show he gave her. A man performing the most intimate kiss for his lover as though worshipping his goddess. A woman accepting his gift as her due. Although bound by her chains, she seemed ready to take flight. No. In some perverse way, her chains gave her the freedom to soar. As he continued the gentle rasp, rasp, rasp of his tongue over her clitoris, her heart pounded in her chest, and her breasts nearly spilled from the bustier with the violence of her breathing.
Still, she fought the climax. He’d ordered her to. As long as she could keep from coming, he’d give her more and more of this pleasure. Who knew what else he’d planned for her? Who could guess how long he could keep her in this highly aroused state? Eventually, she’d succumb. She’d have to. But until then, she’d experience the sexual excitement she’d never dreamed of before she’d set foot in Club Ecstasy.
By now, she could hardly keep her eyes open, and her breath was coming in gasps. The last thread of her control threatened to snap, and she gritted her teeth and pulled against the bindings at her wrists to distract herself from the tension building between her legs.
He stopped licking her again. “You’re going to climax, aren’t you?”
“No. Honest.” Yes, yes. Touch me again.
“I thought so. I have a solution for that.” He climbed off the bed, leaving her hanging. Literally. Every nerve screamed. She watched as he went to the table and selected two items—one a very long feather and the other a life-like phallus. How those two items could keep her from climaxing escaped her fevered mind. Especially the dildo. That would have the exact opposite effect.
He was wearing his wicked smile as he climbed onto the bed. He set the dildo aside and then caught her staring at it. “You want that, don’t you?”
“I’d rather have you.”
“Of course, you would. That way you could seduce me into letting you climax.”
Hell, yeah. That sounded like a fabulous idea. She could give it a try if her hands weren’t tied to the bedposts. At some point, they ought to get it on together. She wouldn’t want to waste a beautiful erection like the one he wore right now.
Kneeling at her feet, he reached the feather up and slid it over her face. Nothing but softness as it glided over her cheeks and mouth. He trailed it over her throat and down into the cleavage between her breasts. Interesting torture, if that’s what he thought he was doing. For the moment, it did distract her from the gathering chaos in her pussy, and so it did work to put off her orgasm. But only put it off, not prevent it entirely. Nothing short of dousing her in cold water could accomplish that, and maybe even that wouldn’t work.
He continued, now trailing the feather over her chest to the pit of her arm. That created an entirely different sensation. She couldn’t say it actually tickled, but the sensitive skin there responded with a prickling sensation, jangling her nerves. That, in turn, connected with the sexual charge already building inside her. Maybe it was torture, after all.
“Like it?” he asked.
“Not sure.”
He continued beneath her other arm, and she couldn’t help but squirm. He was toying with her. Touching her, but too lightly.
The sensations went away as he
moved the feather over the bustier along her side, but then he settled it at the back of her knee. Another sensitive place she hadn’t thought of as sexual, and yet the gentle stimulation heightened all her senses, causing her to notice the scent of citrus from the earlier massage and the sweet taste of Brent’s kisses that lingered on her lips. She glanced at the mirrors again and saw a handsome man tickling his lover with a peacock feather, of all things. And still, the woman stood, stretched out for him and allowing him to do whatever he wished to her body.
Finally, he brought the feather up one thigh toward her pussy. It felt like silk against her skin, slithering upward and landing on her lips. Even that light contact was enough to bring her clit back to life. It throbbed in anticipation of something—anything—rubbing against it.
“Should I touch you with this?” he said.
“You are touching me.”
“You know what I mean,” he said. “Should I touch your clitoris? Should I see if I can make you come that way?”
“I’m not supposed to come.” But she would. The only question was could he make her climax with the brush of a feather?
“Right you are. Let’s see if I can make you want to come.” With his free hand, he parted the lips of her sex and then brushed the feather over the tip of her clit. Talk about jangling nerves. She almost jumped out of her skin. He continued stroking her ever so softly, and she leaned into the contact as much as the chains allowed her. Too little. Too gentle.
“I’ve never made a woman climax with the touch of a feather,” he said. “I wonder if it’s possible. I’ll have to try that some time.”
By which he meant not now. Bastard. They both knew he was doing exactly that this very minute, and he could give her an orgasm with the feather. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of confronting him about playing with her. His smile had already grown too smug. He sat there, grinning like an idiot while he continued the maddening strokes over her clit that almost, but not quite, could push her past the breaking point. With no other choice except using the word and ending this game, she clenched her teeth and hung on.
“I have another idea on how to make this really good,” he said.