by Lila Dubois
She had to work it over her hips, shifting her weight from bare foot to bare foot, the long leather fringe that looked delightfully like the falls of a flogger swaying side to side, revealing glimpses of her thighs.
The dress dropped to the ground, and for the first time he saw her fully, gloriously naked.
Her pussy was shaved, as he’d suspected. He wanted to feel the cleft of her sex rubbing against his palm, his thigh. He wanted to know what she tasted like. He wanted to know what sounds she’d make when he made her come again and again.
Dawn would not come until he knew all those things.
Christiana carefully stepped out of the discarded dress, then raised her hands, lacing her fingers together behind her neck, pulling her elbows back. She spread her legs, not as wide as he’d like, but wide enough that he could easily stand, walk over there, and touch that sweet, tempting pussy.
James rose, and paused. He needed control. Needed to show her that he could top her without touching her. Last night had been black and white, hard and soft, the spanking and then extended aftercare. Now he would show her all the subtleties he, and only he, could give her.
James walked to the bar, leaving her alone on the stage. He leaned one elbow on the wood and watched her. Use of the stage had to be booked either in advance or on the first night of the event, but it was early enough that it wasn’t yet time for the first performance. If he knew it, surely Christiana did too, but he was hoping that standing there, naked and vulnerable, would make her wonder if maybe he had booked a time, if he would play with her there, where her pleasure and submission would be enhanced by being on display. He stayed at the bar for the time it took him to finish a scotch and soda, heavy on the soda, then walked back. A few more people had come upstairs, and a trio was standing near the front of the stage, chatting.
James nodded at them as he strolled over. The Domme of the group returned the nod then gestured to Christiana. “She’s lovely. New?”
James smiled. “She is both very lovely and new.”
The Domme went back to stroking her sub’s bare back with the hand wearing a glove tipped with metal claws.
Christiana made a small sound when she heard James’s voice—he detected both relief and longing. He stopped before the stage, staying out of the lights. “Do you like being on display?”
“I…don’t think so.”
He thrust his hand out with deliberate speed and cupped her pussy. She gasped once, and then again when he pressed his middle finger between her labia. For the first time he felt her sweet, wet heat. He gave himself a moment to savor and enjoy. There would never again be a first time he got to touch Christiana this way.
But there were plenty of other firsts for them.
Christiana rubbed herself against his hand. He smiled, but used a stern voice when he said, “Hold still.” His index and ring fingers were along the outsides of the lips, pressed against the creases where pussy met thigh, while the middle finger rode the valley. He punctuated the command by pressing his fingers together, lightly pinching her labia. She jumped, but then settled down, standing passively, submissively, as he continued to play with her.
He watched her face, her nipples, as he curled his center finger, letting the tip just barely touch the entrance to her body. He saw the effort it took her to stay still in the way her thigh muscles clenched.
“You did very well staying in position and letting all these people look at you.” Three people hardly counted as “all these” but he was hoping she didn’t know that. It was clear she wasn’t a true exhibitionist, but she’d obediently displayed herself, and thinking that there were more people would only heighten that feeling.
“Thank you, Sir.”
He slid his fingers through the valley of her sex, toying with her inner labia, and coming close to her clit, but not touching it.
“I have plans for us tonight,” he told her.
“I’m sorry about last night, Sir.”
That surprised him. “Why are you sorry?”
“I wasted our night.”
“I told you I didn’t think it was a waste.”
“I fell asleep. I can’t believe I fell asleep.”
“You were tired, and I’m guessing the tension relief from your spanking led to exhaustion.” His fingers slid through the valley of her sex, coming ever closer to her clit.
“Yes, Sir.”
“How does your ass feel? Are you sore?”
“No, Sir.”
“Ah, are you disappointed that you’re not sore?”
She pressed her lips together as if holding back a smile. “A little.”
“I will promise you this: tomorrow you will still feel me. Your body will ache from the things I do to you.”
Her breasts rose and fell in an uneven rhythm, her lips parting to show a hint of teeth and tongue.
James scissored his fingers along the sides of her clit. Christiana danced up onto her toes, gasping. “Sir, please, please!”
“Please, what?”
“Please, I’m going to come.”
“From this?” He repeated the motion, sliding his ring and middle fingers along the slides of the clit, this time tensing them so that he was applying pressure, not just rubbing.
“Yes, yes, Sir, please.”
“Please, what?” he repeated.
“I’m going to come.”
“No, Christiana, you’re not. So tell me, what are you asking for? Are you asking me to stop, or asking me for permission to come?”
She closed her eyes, throat working. “Stop, please, Sir.”
She surprised him again. “You want me to stop?”
Now she laughed softly. “Well, no, I don’t want you to stop. It feels so good. I don’t want it to ever stop, but that’s why I asked you to stop.”
James raised his eyebrows. “Pardon?”
“I don’t want it to be over. I mean, yes, I want to come, but I want to keep feeling this way, so I’m asking you to stop, please, Sir.”
Now it was James’s turn to chuckle. “Oh, my sweet Christiana. You think that I’ll stop after you come once?”
“I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“You didn’t. At least, I didn’t take it as an insult. But let me be sure I understand.” As he spoke, he kept his fingers moving, rubbing them along the sides of her clit in a firm, steady pressure. She was still standing under the lights, naked body on display, trying to have a conversation while he casually and possessively played with her. “You are worried that after you reach orgasm, I won’t be able to make you feel this way again? That our night will peak, and everything that comes after will be a disappointment?”
Christiana’s eyes grew wide and round. “Um…no. That’s, uh…”
“Am I correct?” he asked in a low, silky voice.
He enjoyed watching her squirm as she realized the trap she’d fallen into. “I am just enjoying this so much that…” She stopped and sighed. “You’re very tricky, Sir.”
A genuine laugh escaped him. “Ah, Christiana, you are a treasure. My treasure.” The words came out hard and possessive. “Now you will come for me.”
His words, his touch, they pushed her toward something new. She thought she knew what an orgasm was. She had a very nice vibrator.
But she’d never had an orgasm as the result of a man using only his fingers. She’d had a few from oral sex, but those had always been tempered by stress since she was usually worried about how long it was taking for her to come.
With James she didn’t have to force it. She didn’t have to actively concentrate on what was going on in order to make herself come. She couldn’t have stopped from coming, even if she wanted to.
James’s hand moved with a surety that was delightful. His index finger joined the middle and ring fingers, crowding the top of her pussy. Index and ring fingers laying alongside her clit, a sort of gentle trap. His middle finger stroked her captured clit. It was a smooth, gliding touch, and she could tell his hand was well
coated in her body’s natural lubrication. The first touch directly to the tip of her clit made her jump in reaction to the newness of the stimulation.
The second touch was pure pleasure.
Pleasure was such a pale word for what she felt, and though the only place he was directly stimulating was her clit, every inch of her skin tingled. It was as if because he’d commanded her to be naked, be on display, his power and command were touching her, a form of mental stimulation her aroused body interpreted as physical touch.
He stroked her clit a third time, and the muscles in her belly clenched. She bent forward in reaction, gasping.
Another caress, another bolt of sensation. Her legs trembled.
James’s hand slid away from her pussy. Oh no, she’d broken the position, she’d disappointed him.
His damp fingers pressed against her mound and his thumb wiggled between her pussy lips, finding her clit.
“Stand up,” he commanded. “Accept this. Give in to it. Trust me. Submit to me.”
Christiana forced herself to straighten, spreading her elbows wide once more.
His thumb started to circle on her clit in a steady rhythm.
Pleasure suffused her. It was as if she were hollow, and he held a pitcher, pouring a steady stream of pleasure into her, filling her.
His thumb kept circling.
He filled her until her nipples were hard points and even her scalp prickled. And then he kept filling her, adding more and more pleasure, until it wasn’t a stream but a waterfall of sensation that crashed over her.
Christiana was dimly aware that she was breathing deep, each exhale a moan. She didn’t care.
“Come for me,” he ordered in that rich, dark voice.
For one horrible moment, Christiana thought that she couldn’t, that this pleasure-laced tension was all there was. Scared of disappointing him, she considered faking the orgasm. That thought had barely registered when a final gentle stroke of his thumb over her clit brought her to climax. It took her by surprise, almost as if her body was new to her. Maybe it was—her body under James’s hand experienced things it never had before.
The pleasure coiled and condensed within her released, flooding her with sparkling gold. Her nipples ached, her pussy clenched, and her fingers, still laced together, tightened into an intertwined fist.
His thumb stopped moving, instead holding steady pressure on her clit as the muscle-spasming waves of pleasure continued to roll through her. She panted and moaned, arching her back, the muscles low in her torso clenching tight. It went on, wave after wave of sensation.
After a delicious eternity, she started to calm. Christiana opened her eyes, feeling lazy and satisfied, like a well-petted cat in the sun.
She looked down, searching for James’s face in the darkness before the stage. She could see him, though he was more of a shadowy outline. He slipped his hand from her pussy, then held up his arms. Without hesitation, she stepped off the stage, trusting him. His hands curled around her ribs, thumbs under her breasts, and he lowered her to the floor. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust enough for her to read his expression. He was watching her with a steel-jawed intensity that might have been anger.
She swayed into him, laying her head on his shoulder. Pressed against him, she could feel the hard ridge of his cock through his slacks, and knew that it wasn’t anger, but desire, that made him look at her that way.
“Thank you,” she murmured. Pushing away from his chest, she raised her head, meeting his gaze. “Please, Sir.”
“Please what?”
“Please let me…” She slid her hand down the front of his body, resting her palm on his cock.
He inhaled sharply. “Oh, yes, you will take my cock in that lovely mouth, but not yet.” He reached back and slapped her ass. Christiana jumped in reaction, even as her pussy pulsed in response.
“Arms behind your back. Cross your wrists.”
Christiana obeyed, and he wrapped one hand loosely around her wrists, applying pressure to urge her to start walking. She walked beside and slightly in front of him, her naked form occasionally earning her a glance or smile from the people they passed. Instead of feeling self-conscious or embarrassed, she felt lovely and powerful. Some part of her wanted them to see her, to look at her, and know that she, Christiana, was submitting to James.
He led her past the top of the staircase and the bar, to the far side of the room. Rather than going to one of the seating areas, he led her to what looked like a miniature gymnastics pommel horse made of black leather and iron. Instead of handholds on the top, there were heavy metal rings set into the sides. The legs had small cranks that allowed the height to be adjusted, and the top was about a foot wide and four feet long. A small metal table tent embossed with the word reserved was set atop it.
James released her wrists and plucked the reserved sign off the horse, then turned to look at her, one hand casually in his pocket. It struck her again that she was totally naked and vulnerable, while he was fully dressed.
It should have scared her, but it felt right. More than that, it excited her.
“I’ll let you choose how you want to be positioned. You can either stand at the end and have your whole torso on the top, or you can stand at the side and rest your arms and shoulders on the top.”
For a moment she’d forgotten her deception, forgotten that she had no right to be here. The fact that she had no idea how to answer James’s question was a stark reminder that some internet searches and a taste for what many would call smutty books was not equal to real life experience. She looked at the floor. “I’m happy with either, Sir. Which would you prefer?”
“Hmm,” he hummed in consideration. “I will let you answer that way for now, but I’m not the sort of Dom who asks a question as an obedience test. If I give you options, I expect you to make a choice and answer me. I won’t always give you a choice, so when I do, I am genuinely offering you some level of agency.” He touched her chin, forcing her to look up. “Does that make it hard for you to submit? You didn’t strike me as the sort of sub who wanted to be told what to do at all times.”
“I’m not,” she replied. “I just…don’t really know which would be better.”
His eyes sparkled. “Ah, were you fishing for information, Christiana?”
She shook her head. “No, I wasn’t, I swear.”
He laughed softly. “Don’t look so worried. Back to the issue at hand, I’ll make the decision for you.” He released her, and she missed the warmth of his fingers. “You’ll stand at the end.”
Christiana positioned herself so she was looking down the four-foot length of the horse. The cold metal ring mounted to the end brushed against the mound of her sex and she shivered.
James stepped back, looking from her to the horse, then took a knee to adjust the height, lowering it an inch.
Christiana stared at the back of James’s head. His hair was neat and tidy, not a strand out of place. This was a man who knew how to control his world. A man with power.
Her gaze shifted to the rings embedded along the sides of the horse—there were two on each of the long sides, as well as one on each short end. That meant there were six tie-down points.
The first shiver of fear, real fear, slid through her. She was a fool, there was no doubt about that, because if she were smart she would have been scared all along, scared enough not to keep coming back. Every moment she spent with him was a risk, not only that she’d do or say something to expose the truth of who she was, but a risk to her body and soul by playing a game she only barely understood the rules of.
James stood, his calm, commanding gaze settled on her. “Facedown on the horse.”
Christiana looked from him to the horse and back.
He raised a brow. “Is there a problem?”
Honesty. He’d asked for, demanded, honesty. She was lying to him about a lot of things, but she could tell the truth in this instant. “I’m scared.”
“Why?”
“You
’re going to tie me down.” It wasn’t precisely a question, but he responded as if it had been.
“Yes, I am.”
“I’ll be helpless.”
He smiled. “That’s sort of the point.” His smile faded as he looked at her. “You’re genuinely worried.”
“Silly of me, to be scared of a virtual stranger tying me down while I’m naked.” The words could have been sarcastic, but she wasn’t trying for that.
He stepped closer, ducking his head to catch her gaze. “Am I a stranger, Christiana?”
“Logically, yes, but I…I trust you.”
He stroked her cheek. “If you’re not ready to submit, I respect that.”
“No, please, don’t.” She reached out, tentatively at first, but when he didn’t pull away she held his face in her hands. “I want to be here, with you.” She searched his face, memorizing him, so she’d be able to look back on this moment. “I want you.”
“And I want you.” He turned his head and kissed her wrist, then held her wrist and nipped the delicate skin over her pulse. “I want to do things to you that should scare you.”
And just like that, her fear evaporated, to be replaced by burning need. “That just makes me want you more,” she whispered.
He chuckled softly. “Ah, the perverse nature of the submissive.” He stepped back. “Submit to me, Christiana.”
Christiana lowered herself to lie on the bench, shivering as the cool leather pressed against her stomach, breastbone, and cheek. Her breasts were separated and squished, her nipples exposed. Because he’d reduced the height, her lower abdomen wasn’t touching the top, and her shoulders were lower than her hips.
“Stretch your arms out and lay your hands flat, one on top of the other,” was his next command.
This actually made it more comfortable, because now her dangling arms were no longer squeezing her breasts against the edges of the horse.
But it also meant her left arm was partially blocking her view of him as he walked away, returning a moment later holding a leather bag similar to one she’d seen the Dom on the stage unrolling that first night. Her panting breaths were hot against her arm. He knelt and she heard him open the kit, though she couldn’t see what he was doing. When he stood, he held a coil of thin, glossy red rope.