Seduced (London Kink Club)

by Kate Allure

  Abruptly, he pushed her away and stepped back. “Not yet. First we play. And you”—he pointed at her—“will pick the toy we play with.” He gestured to the BDSM furniture in metal and wood placed around the suite.

  She walked around examining every piece, tracing her fingers along the smooth leather or polished wood. At last, she walked back to the piece that most intrigued her. Turning to face him, she laid her hand on the cross—although this one looked different, since it was attached to a giant wooden disc.

  He grinned and popped up from his seat on the bed. Faster than she could have imagined, he had her attached securely to the structure, leather cuffs on her ankles and wrists and straps around her thighs, waist, and chest. The only thing she could freely move was her head. With no leeway to move so much as an inch, he’d left her powerless to stop him from touching her anywhere and in any way he wanted.

  Never in her entire life had she been so exposed, so vulnerable even with her mask in place. She felt completely at his mercy. Still, although she trusted him to take care of her, surreptitiously she strummed the mask ring with her finger, its presence reassuring.

  He grinned down at her then turned to walk to the toy chest.

  Anxiety flared. He’d promised no pain.

  But he only selected a large feather duster from the bin.

  After joining her again, he ever so gently began to caress the soft down over her skin. Leaving heavenly tingles in his wake, he dusted her sensitive nipples and brushed down her belly before trailing along each of her legs. The whisper-light touch quickly evolved from sweet pleasure to bitter torment, endlessly arousing but never enough to take her over the edge. She shuddered.

  He put the duster down and began to kiss and lick her upper body. He lingered over her breasts before passionately kissing her mouth. Again, she jerked at the ties on her wrists, trying to pull free, needing to touch and kiss him back. He smiled at her and continued his excruciatingly slow exploration of her body. He slid a hand down to fondle her clit, and she bucked into it, the pleasure near to exploding her.

  “Uh-uh. No, you don’t,” he murmured wickedly, pulling his hand away.

  Without thought, she spoke in her authoritative judge’s voice. “I order you to continue. Immediately.”

  He laughed delightedly, as if he thought her giving commands was particularly humorous.

  “Mmm-mmm,” he murmured, amused and shaking his head. “Neither pupils nor slaves get to give orders.”

  She thrashed against the restraints to no avail, remaining powerless to do anything but twitch reflexively after every barely there caress of the feather, her body screaming for more, deeper contact.

  “You must be punished for forgetting your place.”

  She froze, her eyes locked on him. He grinned, and she felt helpless—stimulatingly, naughtily, deliciously helpless.

  Swiftly, he bent down and sharply nipped one of her nipples with his teeth.

  “Ouch!” she cried, more from surprise than real pain.

  “You may not make demands. However, I will allow you to beg me.” He gave her a lecherous smirk and returned the feather to tickle her feet and then moved it to her calves again, his caresses ever…so…maddeningly…slow.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re starting all over,” she protested.

  He didn’t tell her that.

  But ruthlessly, he returned to her feet.

  It went against her instincts to beg him, went against years of leadership, but she burned with fiery need. It consumed her, making her struggle against the restraints, making her mindless with lust until the only thing she could see, like a glimmering candle in a dark night, was his cock inside her. It would not cool her but, instead, would take her straight into the fire, to a place where she could explode in blistering climax.

  Even more, it felt right to her. However unfathomable this intrinsic attraction to a stranger, their connection had grown into something deep, strong, and, possibly, the only right thing in the entire universe.

  She whimpered.

  The feather duster whispered over her.

  “Please!” she pleaded.

  He smiled. “I love hearing you beg.” But he turned and stepped away from her. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small dark something and looked at it.

  “Aaarrgghh!” she squealed.

  The wooden disc holding the cross had started rotating, and within seconds she found hanging herself upside down. The blood rushed to her head, and the sensation of being restrained flipped to something completely different, the buckles and belts keeping her safe from landing on her head. Nevertheless, she was still enslaved to her mystery lover.

  He stared at her thoughtfully. Then he gave her a deliciously wicked grin and rotated the wheel a little farther until she was horizontal. Moving to stand in front of her face, he put his hands on his black jeans and slowly unzipped the fly. Jerking his pants and briefs down, his cock bounced free directly in front of her face. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. And waited.

  “Oh!” She gasped, understanding dawning.

  Mere inches from her face, the smooth, velvety head anchored to a thick, rock-hard shaft called to her. Her mouth watered, and she licked her lips.

  “O-hhh,” she repeated, the sound this time a hungry purr.

  She opened her mouth in invitation, practically mindless with excitement. Everything they did here in this decadent club was naughty—sinful, some would say—but it was everything she’d unknowingly longed for deep inside her feminine soul. Playful sex, sensual exploration, two consenting adults sharing fun physical contact.

  It was finally her turn.

  Still, he stood there, staring down at her. What did he want? Why did he wait?

  “Randy?”

  “Slaves ask for permission to enjoy their Master’s cock.”

  “Oh!” She giggled. An articulate high-court judge reduced to a single syllable. “Master, may this slave pleasure you?”

  Through his mask, he winked. “That’s all you’ve got?”

  She giggled again. What a demanding guy! But she’d play along, loving it all. “Sir, please! I need you in my mouth so much. I can’t live without you. I’ll die!” she cried out.

  He laughed at her antics but stepped forward.

  Taking hold of his shaft, he brushed it lightly across her lips. She licked at the knob hungrily and opened her mouth wide.

  “Please,” she whimpered, meaning it this time, and his harshly drawn-in breath was her reward.

  With a sudden force that surprised her, he surged into her mouth. She greedily sucked him in, laving his hot shaft with her wet tongue. He pulled back, and she formed a tight ring with her lips, creating suction and loving the way his cock jerked in response.

  He surged forward, and she loved the way he felt and tasted—clean, salty, all male. He grasped the sides of her face and began to thrust into her mouth. Over and over he filled her, and each time he withdrew, she felt his loss. Wanted him back. Wanted more.

  And she wanted something she’d never done before—she wanted him to explode in her mouth, bring him to his knees with pleasure. Furiously, she worked her tongue and sucked and squeezed with her lips. Faster and faster he plunged into her, and she sensed him getting closer. His fevered moans and juddering cock were manna to her soul. Just a little more and he’d be hers, under her control, even as she was bound and enslaved to him.

  Then he pulled all the way out, leaving her whimpering. “Come back here,” she commanded.

  He chuckled, the sound deep and filled with mirth. “Slaves don’t make demands.”

  The wheel started rotating again, and she squeaked in surprise. Once she was upright, he rapidly released her restraints, starting with the lower ones and moving upward. When she fell free, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. He left her there, and she started to go to him.

  “No. Stay,” he ordered. “I want this to be the best fuck of your life. You will not rush it.” H
e sounded plaintive, as if he were trying to convince himself rather than her.

  “It’s okay. I’m ready now.”

  He shook his head. His body tense and his expression strained, he looked like he could barely hold on to his self-control. Done with words, he offered no more endearments or slave instructions. No more role-playing. He simply pointed at her, silently ordering her to stay where she lay on the bed.

  His back to her, he removed something from a drawer and returned to hold four red silk cords above her prone body. She heard his unspoken question in her mind. “May I?”

  She nodded, her eyes on the ties that would bind her.

  Breathless, she watched him rapidly and efficiently tie her wrists and ankles to each of the four metal corner bedposts. Within minutes she was helplessly stretched out, spread-eagled on her back in the center of the large bed.

  He stood up to view his handiwork. His face registered pure male satisfaction, hunger, and something else, too—pride of ownership. He began to remove his clothes while never taking his eyes off her, his gaze roaming across her nude form as his hands had done minutes earlier.

  His shirt and pants gone, he pushed his briefs down. She watched, hungry to see all of him, every last gorgeous bit exposed for her eyes alone. Her sex clenched at the sight of his cock springing free, thick and ready for her. A deep, achy need grew within her, and she began to moan and writhe, even though he didn’t touch her. She tugged on her restraints, wanting desperately to reach for him, to drag him down to her.

  “Please?”

  “Please, what? What do you need?” he asked silkily.

  “I need you inside me.”

  “Why?”

  She panted in a red haze of need. Head lolling back and forth, she fought an internal battle against her controlling nature to relinquish everything to this man. This virtual stranger. This wonderful lover. He had awakened a previously dormant submissive part of her.

  At the insight, she finally understood on a visceral level what her intellect had always refused to consider—complete submission would ultimately free her. In the guise of a sex slave helpless to her Master’s will, she would be released from self-reproach and inhibition, finally free to explore her innermost sexual yearnings.

  She answered jubilantly, “Because, Master, I am yours. Fuck me any way that pleases you, and that will also please me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ian went still, staring down in awe at the woman tied to the bed, her words sinking in. Euphoria washed over him in scintillating waves.

  Seeing the gleaming slave collar around Tori’s neck pleased the alpha male in him immensely. She didn’t know that a second part of his gift still waited in his pocket. Given how tenuous her initial acceptance of being collared had been, it had not been the right time to snap on a golden chain and lead her around like a slave. But now, here she was proudly proclaiming that he was her master. It nearly brought him to his knees.

  “I’ve waited to hear you say that…it seems like forever.”

  This mysterious woman, who’d driven him crazy for months even when she didn’t realize she was doing it, was now begging him to take her any way he wanted. She dazzled him, catching him like a perfect diamond catches the light and radiantly reflects it back in a rainbow of colors—making something beautiful in the process.

  “Master,” she pleaded. “I want you.”

  He nodded once, incapable of speech. He admired every newly revealed side of her, from her incredible intelligence, to her hidden sexiness, to her adventurous spirit that matched his own. And tonight her gift of submission had struck him straight in the heart. It warmed him as much as it turned him on.

  Grabbing a condom, he hurriedly rolled it on and climbed over her, all the while his gaze roved insatiably over her body. She watched him with wild, hungry eyes, and he wanted to feed her with pleasure. With one powerful surge, he filled her completely, thrilled by her keening welcome. It felt as though he’d yearned for ages, not mere days, for another chance to make this wonderful connection with her. He wanted to bring her such ecstasy that she’d only lust for him in the future.

  Utterly incapable of taking it slow, he began thrusting into her, the feel of her tight grip on his throbbing cock sending tiny shock waves of delight outward from his groin. He drove into her harder and harder, needing more stimulating friction and more connection with her, and she met each push with her own. Completely lost, practically out of his mind, he urged her onward with little entreaties and quick caresses and plentiful kisses. Her erotic mewls were not enough. He wanted her screams of ecstasy.

  “I need to hear you come,” he urged.

  “Yes!” she cried, fighting her bonds. “I need more. Please!”

  “Give it to me,” he demanded, driving his shaft deeply into her as he sought blissful release with her. “Come for me when I command it.”

  She had turned into a wild thing beneath him, thrashing and bucking, groaning and grunting, and he gloried in it, the edges of delirium teasing his mind.

  “You’re beautiful like this.” His pleasure expanded, consuming him.

  He needed it to consume them both.

  “Bloody fucking hell, it feels so good,” he said with a moan. “Give it to me. Give it to me now!”

  He watched her reaction, needing her to submit to him, to his dominance.

  And she did. She quaked, her entire body seeking one thing, and she cried out, her guttural scream filling the room. Her climax surrounded him, and he perished in the erotic sensations—the tight clutch of her cunt on his shaft, the sweet scent of her arousal in his nostrils, and the succulent cries of her pleasure in his ears. He lost control of his ability to think, his body taking over to fuck her in an ever-building sensual storm.

  With one final deep stab, he exploded, shouting with the joy of it. “Yes! God, yes, Victoria!”

  Almost unconscious now, he collapsed down onto her and lay panting, his arms and legs limp. Never in his life had he climaxed as if an inner blaze of fire had consumed him. Stars buzzed around him, and happiness sparkled within him.

  Brilliant! The single word repeated over and over in his mind.

  He’d conquered the world.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Tori lay there quietly panting, her mind floating and fluttering in waves. Impulses and ideas flitted about like butterflies in a field of too many poppies, and she was unable to settle on one. Never in her wildest imagining would she have believed that it could be this wildly exciting to be tied down and fucked, totally at the mercy of someone else. She hadn’t known it could be so all-encompassing, that one could lose oneself completely in the moment.

  But something was…wrong. A little off.

  She felt it but didn’t understand it.

  Then, on a heartbeat, ugly clarity battered through her happiness.

  “You said my name!” she shrieked, so crazed she almost couldn’t understand her own words.

  Outrage swarmed next, leaving hideous pain behind.

  “How in bloody hell do you know my name? My real name?”

  Dread, disappointment, and degradation circled like three vultures ready to pick her bones.

  He stared down at her in blank incomprehension. “Wha…?”

  “Who are you?” she demanded. Still bound to the bed, she thrashed about, trying ineffectually to buck him off and pull free.

  Her rage suddenly registered with the near-comatose lover lying on top of her. He jerked upward onto his arms to blink down at her, obviously confused.

  Then a sudden look of horror spread over his face. “No, please. I didn’t just— Please, no!”

  “Get off me! Untie me right now. How could you do this?”

  Verging on hysteria, she twisted about, madly pulling at her bindings and trying to squirm herself free of him.

  Choking on her hurt, she refused to let a single tear escape. She felt defenseless, impotent, wanting to rip the mask from his deceitful face, but she was unable to move. H
ow had she ever believed this was erotic?

  “Please. I’m sorry! Honest. I had planned to tell you.” He pulled out of her and climbed off. Racing, he worked furiously to untie the bindings from her hands.

  Before he could untie her feet, she reached for his face and yanked his mask off. Horror filled her eyes.

  “You! I can’t believe you would do this. Deceive me in this way.”

  Deep within, however, she realized she had already sensed the truth. The niggling feeling had been there ever since she’d heard his full voice earlier. Perhaps even from the moment she’d first met him at Club Exotica. She simply hadn’t wanted to put it all together—had wanted instead to keep her mysterious masquerade-ball prince.

  Jabbing at his back as he worked to untie her ankles, she peppered him with accusations. “How could you do this to me? What were you thinking? Was it just some big game? Let’s play fuck the judge. What, what, what were you thinking?”

  She froze, renewed shock blazing through her. Her voice barely audible, she asked, “Did you do this to get revenge after losing that case last month?”

  He whipped around. “No! God, no. Please, let me explain. I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

  Finally free, she scooted backward, away from him, until her back was pressed against the headboard. “When you couldn’t get me any other way, you tricked me into fucking you. Is that it?”

  “No, it wasn’t like that! I swear!”

  She scrambled off the bed and started grabbing her clothes. He reached out to touch her, but she roughly brushed his hands off her.

  “Don’t touch me. Don’t you ever touch me again!”

  Quietly he tried again. “Will you please let me explain? I like you so m—”

  “There is nothing you can say that will make me understand why you did this. I don’t want to hear another word from you…ever!”

  Having finally managed to tug on her shorts and shimmy her sweat-covered body into her corset, she started for the door. “I’m leaving. Don’t try to stop me and don’t follow me, or I’ll call the bouncers. Do you hear me?”

  He nodded miserably.