by Nikki Sex
“Merci, ma petite lapine,” he replied coolly, but his dark eyes twinkled, and Emily could see that he was genuinely pleased by the compliment. “And now the rules return, and you have my complete and most personal attention.”
Having his complete personal attention wracked her nerves, but it was too late to worry about that. “Sir,” Emily said, “do you mind if I ask one last question?”
André nodded, but his lips were firmly pressed together, thin with disapproval. Was he sick of her questions already?
“It will not be your last, but you may ask.”
“I don’t understand why I’m not allowed to talk. A large part of the attraction to this kind of lifestyle is honesty. The transparency and communication between Dom and sub. People actually tell each other what they want.”
“True.”
“So why do I have to keep quiet?”
André smiled, came closer and gave her hair a tug. “Not all communication is verbal, but you address a most appropriate question. Think for a moment, Emily. Why is it best for the sub to remain silent?”
Emily recalled the old saying that her dad constantly repeated, ‘God gave us two ears and one mouth, so we ought to listen twice as much as we speak.’ Her dad always teased her, saying that she talked too much.
Frowning, Emily concentrated. It was like a riddle, this question of André’s. ‘Why should the sub shut-up?’ Maybe it had to do with thinking.
If I don’t have to initiate a conversation, then I don’t have to think. Maybe. Is it because not having to keep up with chatty social conventions lessens my responsibility? But what had André said about surrendering and accepting emotions? Maybe I’m not supposed to be thinking at all. Perhaps as a sub, I’m just supposed to feel.
That had the ring of truth to it. Emily remembered André’s words: As a sub, you must let go. Suddenly the answer, seemed obvious.
“The sub’s role is to do what her Dom asks, leaving everything up to him. Not talking will help a sub pay attention, and more clearly see what her Dom wants.”
“Very good, ma petite lapine,” André said with an approving smile.
“But what about what I want?” Emily asked the rhetorical question. “Hmmm. There’s so much involved in this game. I guess, I just have to trust that as my Dom, you have my best interests at heart.”
An odd smile played across André’s lips. Emily couldn’t quite interpret it. “Trust me, ma petite lapine. You have come to me. I know exactly what you need.” Hard eyes bored into her suddenly, in that undeniable Dom ‘Look’ that she’d seen before. A nervous shiver ran down her spine. How could one look from this man take her breath away?
A thrill of excitement coursed over her, despite herself. What was so delicious? That sense of power and danger that came from this strong uncompromising Dom? Or was it the fact that the way he looked and spoke reminded her of Paul?
“Climb up on the bed now,” André commanded her, in a no nonsense tone. “Lay face down and spread-eagle. It is time for you to discover the most exquisite of pleasures, the ecstasy that can be found through pain.”
Chapter 25. Pleasure
From: Candy
To: Paul Jarman
Subject: Dirty fantasies
There! I told you exactly what I thought about when masturbating last night, and what made me climax! Jeez. I can’t believe I did that! I’ve said and done things with you that I’ve NEVER done with anyone else before. I never knew how inexperienced I was. You’ve opened my eyes.
At least on email you can’t see how red I get while typing.
You’re a sore trial to me.
Innocent
~~~
From: Paul Jarman
To: Candy
Subject: Sore Trial
I can’t tell you how much you’ve pleased me by so thoroughly and honestly obeying my wishes.
It is a basic presumption in our legal system that an accused person is innocent until proven guilty. My verdict is that you are NOT INNOCENT. Not with fantasies like that! I LOVE them. Guilty, guilty, guilty, you sweet sexy woman. Be assured that the punishment will fit the crime.
I’m going to reward you. Exact details to follow…
Paul
~~~
André Chevalier watched as his nervous little sub worried her plump lower lip, tilted her chin up, and climbed onto the bed.
Such a brave little rabbit, how she trembles and shakes with fear! Mon Dieu, this is why I love this profession that I have made my life. Who would not adore a courageous young woman such as this?
Emily Malone didn’t have the benefit of extensive life experience. She had a responsible job, but she was not well-travelled, nor had she been able to continue her education. But there was a sense of duty, loyalty, and a wish to be of use to others that André immediately recognized.
It made her incredibly attractive.
André loved women. He liked them young, or old, fat or thin, beautiful or considered ugly, and they all loved him. André never pretended affection or interest. If the man was blind at all, it was to a woman’s flaws. Yet even then, he clearly saw faults, and could discuss them without prejudice.
Although André’s sexual attraction was for women, strangely, he was just as good with men. A philosopher, and a gentleman, André valued people. He never tired of their stories, and was compassionate to their many and varied problems. He was a great believer in Plato’s philosophy, “In life be kind, because everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”
Colin Wilkins, the club manager, had called him when Emily had first come to The Basement. Colin knew the kind of client André particularly enjoyed. Emily was young, and attractive. While these were both desirable attributes, it was not what he was interested in. The fact that she was an innocent to dominance and submission was also most enticing. But when Colin told him about Emily’s fascinating circumstances, André couldn’t resist.
While people could be similar in the way they acted or looked, this was always an incorrect impression. Every client was unique, and each managed to create unique complications in their lives.
And Emily? Her problems were vastly entertaining! André intended to offer his services, to observe how she managed to escape this tangle. One thing was certain, her difficulties were going to get worse before they got better.
Such an absurd situation.
André forced himself not to smile, although he wanted to. His attention was on Emily now, and how best to help her overcome her fear of pain. The young woman was in love, and from the way she spoke about the object of her affections, André felt the Dom she desired might actually deserve her.
Despite her lack of life experience, Emily was remarkably patient and composed, even under these difficult circumstances. She had control of her passions, to a large degree. Yet she was most open and easy to read, as André could trace her every thought.
What would arouse her? Soft kisses on the neck? Dirty talk, or gentle fingers, nips or bites? Hair pulling, bondage, the vulnerability of being blindfolded, or the idea of making a man climax?
As a stranger, she was not sexually aroused by him, no. Many women preferred strangers, but for Emily, the heart must be engaged before she gave her body. He smiled. Yet her heart was most certainly engaged.
For this to work, André knew that her mind must be on the subject of her desire: Paul Jarman. Perhaps he was the only one that she would truly surrender to. André fervently hoped that this man was worthy of such love and devotion.
Emily lay on the bed, face down as requested. Eyes shut to block out the world, she was trembling. André ran a gentle hand up her back, from her hip to her right shoulder. “Petite lapine, you have done as I asked.” He stroked her hair affectionately. “It is not so difficult, is it?”
“No, Sir,” she said in a quavering voice.
André kept his palm and fingers against her skin. Like a skittish polo pony, new to the game, she would need a firm and constant hand. He took her right arm, and faste
ned a cuff around her wrist, binding her to the bedpost. The cuffs were lined with sheepskin and would not chafe. Frightened, Emily breathed shallow and rapid. His admiration of her grew, as he could see the extent of her fear.
“You are doing very well, ma petite.”
“Thank you, Sir,” she whispered.
André moved around the bed fastening her legs and wrists to each bedpost, while Emily shifted, tested her cuffs and licked her lips nervously. He stroked one of her bare shoulders. "Scared?" he asked.
Her eyes flew open and she gave him a slightly panicked laugh. "Yes!"
André sat on the bed beside her, where she could see him. “Take a slow deep breath,” he said gently and when she did he praised her. “That is right. Perfect. Again.” When her breathing had calmed he said kindly, “Better?”
“Yes, thank you, Sir.”
“Ma petite lapine, I am going to place a blindfold on you now, for I wish for you to use your imagination. As I touch you, and use the flogger, I wish for you to imagine that Paul sits nearby, and that he directs my actions. Do you think you will be able to do this?”
“I think so, Sir. I’ll try my best.”
“It is all I can ask of you, ma petite.” With that, he placed the silk blindfold over her eyes. “Can you see, Emily?”
“No, Sir.”
“It is well. Bon. I trust that you are comfortable in all the right ways," he said, deliberately low and seductive voice. "And uncomfortable in all the right ways, as well." He allowed a light-hearted chuckle. “Tell me how you feel,” he said.
“Nervous, frightened… and determined, Sir,” she said.
“Very good, petite lapine, and so we will begin.” André had been watching her closely. Emily’s breathing was still elevated, at twenty breaths a minute. Her heart rate was up, too, but not dangerously so.
The Dom in him thrilled to see her bound before him. What could be better that taking a beautiful, frightened and vulnerable woman, and watch her fear turn into sensual pleasure? Seeing her willingly submit, despite all her natural resistance? Such was a primitive male delight that came to him instinctively.
This session had to be positive, but André knew just how to ease a woman into anything. He moved the flogger down her back, and Emily shivered with the touch of it. There was a subtle tremor running through her body. André found her transparent anxiety and alarm arousing. This intelligent and determined woman was frightened, but she chose to submit to him. He would never betray that trust.
He teased and traced her skin, along her arms, legs and torso, over and over. In gentle figure eights, he lovingly caressed her with the flogger in a comforting manner, touching every part of her bare skin with long strokes, and alternating with concentric circles.
The tension in her body began to ease.
As he stroked her with the flogger, André murmured in French; soft and soothing, words of endearment. It didn’t take long before she had calmed.
“Emily,” he said quietly, “you are quite comfortable?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said in a lazy voice.
“The feel of the flogger, it suits you, yes?”
“Yes, Sir,” she gave a half-hearted snicker, “when you aren’t actually hitting me with it.”
“Very good,” he said. “Now tell me, in great detail, of your first kiss with Paul Jarman. Tell it like a story. I wish to hear your every thought, your every sensation, and emotion. As much as possible, it is my desire that you re-experience this time with your Paul. Can you do this for me, Emily? For it would please me very much if you could.”
“Sure,” she said with a tense little laugh. Emily began to talk, her speech nervous and rapid. “It’s a little embarrassing, actually it’s really embarrassing, but you’re a man of the world. I’m sure you’ve heard childhood crush stories before. You know what’s funny? I’m laying here naked, cuffed to a bed, with a complete stranger. But that’s not the funny bit. The funny bit, is that I’m comfortable with all this. Isn’t it astonishing, how so much can change in a couple of weeks?”
“It is most amusing,” André agreed. He was aware that her stimulated mind, wandering, yet alert, was pursuing many different avenues. It was up to him to direct her attention, and to keep her thoughts on the correct track.
“Listen, Emily. I have given you a task. Obey me now,” he said using a stern Dom voice. “Speak to me of your story. Start at the beginning of how you came to first kiss Paul.”
Emily Malone had a wonderful memory. She began explaining how Paul had been her hero, and the subject of her dreams, all her life. When he had pulled her into his lap at the cantina, the pleasure she’d experienced was beyond her wildest fantasies. She explained how it was like being drunk, intoxicated by the scent, sight, sound and feel of him.
As she spoke, André stopped caressing her with the flogger, and began to gently and rhythmically slap her with it. The many tailed flogger made a soft swishing sound through the air, followed by a thud as it connected with her flesh.
Swish, thud; swish, thud.
He knew the sound, and the feel of it, could be quite mesmerizing. It was enticing, the call of the flogger as it caressed and stimulated bare sensitive flesh.
He moved around Emily, working with attentive interest and skill. His job, for now, was to listen to her story and observe what she said that aroused her while applying the flogger.
Swish, thud; swish, thud.
The sound and feel would create a relaxing, sensual sensation. The rhythm and patterns gave her back, legs, arms and buttocks a warm, seductive glow. Deciphering Emily’s body language wasn’t difficult. André noticed her every response, including the lovely deepening red of her soft skin.
From time to time he questioned a detail, assisting her to recall and almost re-live the past.
The blindfold helped her to focus her attention on her story and on sensation. André made each stroke predictable and expected. He had no wish to surprise or alarm her. Right now, she was absorbed in a pleasant memory, and the strokes from his flogger were gentle, soft, sweet kisses upon her flesh.
They couldn’t possibly hurt.
André intended to change Emily’s mental associations. He didn’t want her to think of angry spankings from her mother, or domestic violence and abuse while facing pain from the flogger. He wanted her to link such pain with arousal, and intense sensual pleasure.
He watched with pleasure as all tension drained out of her body.
When there was a pause in her romantic account, he checked the time. Thirty-five minutes had flown by already. “The flogger, it is not so disagreeable?” he asked quietly.
“No, Sir,” she replied in a dreamy whisper.
“Very good, please continue with your story. It is most enjoyable.”
Emily continued talking, and as time went one every word became emotionally and sexually charged. It was not often that André discovered such long-term devotion. In truth, there was no need for him to teach her about the exquisite pleasures that could be obtained from pain. Her Dom would do that. And yet what if hers was destined to be unrequited love?
For now, Emily had only friendship. It was Candy that had attracted Paul’s interest.
André took a moment to roll up his sleeves, as the activity was beginning to make him sweat. As she spoke, André began to flog her harder. Swish, thud; swish, thud; swish, thud. The flogger he chose, created a pleasing thud with the fairly low level sting, unless vigorously applied.
He began to apply it more vigorously.
Now her sensitive reddened flesh would be filled with warmth and heat.
Emily’s story wound down, and then finished. André put the flogger aside, placed a soothing hand on her shoulder, and sat next to her on the bed. “You did very well, ma petite lapine. I am most pleased with the exact manner in which you followed my instructions.”
He gave her a pat, and stood up, the flogger in his grasp. “How do you feel?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “It’
s very strange. My skin is all warm, tingly and alive. I feel oddly invigorated, yet relaxed. If anything, I think I’m, ah…” she hesitated and a flush made her checks pink. Suddenly tensing with resolve she finished, “well, I’m kind of turned on. I wouldn’t consider any of this to be pain, Sir. It’s more like an amazing, sexy massage.”
André could believe that. His little rabbit was dripping, he could smell her sweet feminine scent. He raised his arm.
Crack!
Emily cried out with astonishment and surprise as, with exacting care, he slammed the flogger down hard across her beautiful derrière. André scrutinized her as she absorbed the burning sensation. Her mouth opened wide in a gasp, her body stiffened, and her face whitened with shock.
“And now, petite lapine?” he asked calmly. He ran his hand over the heat on her abused buttocks. The strike caused instant red marks that may yet turn to welts. He was most careful, it would not break her soft pale skin.
Emily’s physical reactions, were normal and expected. To his surprise and great pleasure however, what she said and did, was not at all as he had anticipated.
Emily burst out, hysterically laughing. “Holy fuck, Sir! That I consider to most definitely be pain!”
Chapter 26. Pain
André absolutely adored Emily’s response. Such innocent, unexpected and impulsive honesty gave him great joy. Laughing, he sat down on the bed beside her, and soothingly stroked her welts. “Was it so very bad?”
Again, she pleased him, because she didn’t reply at once. After careful consideration, she answered, “No, it wasn’t that bad.”
“I struck you very hard, little rabbit. And you told me that you feared pain. Consider for a moment; why was the thought of pain more frightening to you than the reality of pain?”
“Sir, you sure ask me some curly ones,” she said with a giggle. “I honestly don’t know. Maybe it’s the significance or the setting. I was enjoying my massage. I wasn’t afraid of the flogger, and I’m not afraid of you. Maybe it’s not the flogger, or pain that is frightening. Maybe it’s the context of pain that makes it more difficult or easy to endure.”