“No arguments. No topping from the bottom. Just submission. Unless I ask you a direct question or you’re using your safeword, you won’t speak.”
She nodded, wondering if he wanted her to call him Sir. Several of the Doms preferred it, but it never came off her tongue very naturally. He didn’t mention the idea.
He circled her several times slowly. They were standing in the center of the main room. The majority of the apparatus in the room lined the walls. The only scenes done in the center of the room involved suspension. She wondered if that was his intention.
Her curiosity was beyond piqued as she reminded herself she knew nothing about his preferences. She didn’t know Pierce as a Dom.
As if he read her mind, he paused in front of her and lifted her chin with two fingers. “I want you to know that I’ve been coming to clubs like Zodiac for fifteen years. Even though I’ve had long gaps on occasion when I didn’t regularly practice some form of BDSM because I had to work, I’m well-trained in almost anything. Whatever items I’m unfamiliar with, I would never use on you at this stage in our relationship. I would never use any toy or apparatus I didn’t have full confidence in without discussing it with you first so you’d be aware of my limitations.”
She gave a slight nod.
He glanced to the left and then smiled. “Our station is available.”
When he leaned down, grabbed his black duffle bag, and then led her across the room, she realized he’d reserved a timeslot for the bench in front of her in advance. The fact that he’d gone to the effort to be so prepared endeared him to her.
Coincidentally, the bench he’d chosen was rather new and not one she had experience with. None of the other Doms had instructed her to use it yet. She’d watched others, though, so the concept was not foreign to her. In fact, she was aroused by the introduction while she watched Pierce circle the bench slowly, trailing his fingers along the leather parts.
He came to her next, expression serious.
She swallowed, noting that she was seeing a new side of him. His Dom persona. She shivered.
He hesitated in front of her, smiling. Knowing. And then he rounded to her back again and pushed her hair over her shoulder. For a moment she thought he might pull it into a ponytail or braid it, but instead, his fingers landed on her zipper, and he gradually lowered it to the base of her spine. Painstaking movements that made her nipples pucker and her pulse pick up.
She was learning him as a Dom. It was titillating. Intriguing. He was fastidious and precise with every movement. She already suspected she was going to be putty in his hands.
When he released the zipper, his hands came to her shoulders, and he lowered the dress down her body. He kneeled behind her and tapped her ankle. “Lift your foot, London.”
She did as instructed, lifting first one and then the other heel until the dress was whisked away. He set it on a nearby stool.
She shivered yet again when he returned to circle her, so damn slowly, his fingers dragging along her skin. She wore nothing but a black lace thong and her heels now. The dress hadn’t required a bra.
A part of her was shocked that he would expose her like this in public considering the way he’d so blatantly made it clear to all other Doms that touching her intimately was off limits. She’d expected him to be so possessive that he wouldn’t even share her nudity.
But that wasn’t the case, and she was glad. Being exposed to others like this heightened her pleasure. Knowing people were watching and growing turned on by her exhibition caused her arousal to skyrocket.
Something about Pierce was different from any other Dom she’d played with before. He’d done nothing specific yet, and she was already wet. Her breasts felt heavy. She shuddered for a third time when he paused in front of her and circled her nipples without both pointer fingers, not making contact with either tip.
A moment later, he leaned in and set his lips on her tattoo. “Tell me about this tattoo,” he murmured.
She swallowed. Emily Dickinson was her favorite poet. The lines of that particular poem were never far from her mind. She could quote them easily.
“Hope is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops at all—”
She only gave him the first stanza, but she knew it affected him. He held his breath while she spoke.
“That’s beautiful,” he whispered.
He held her gaze for several long moments before he finally took her hand and led her to the bench. It was a bit different from other benches in the club. There were leather padded sections in four places to accommodate forearms and shins. The center section was made up of a long, padded pole, which would run up her torso between her breasts, and three other similarly padded extensions that reached out from the center. They were adjustable to accommodate any body type, male or female, tall or short, large breasted or small.
Pierce lined her up with the rear of the bench and then lifted her by the waist so that her knees rose high enough to set them on the padded sections. “Lean forward if you can. I’ll adjust the sides.”
She bent at the waist, causing the first rungs to rest in the curve of her body. The second section nestled under her breasts, and the third extension lined up with her shoulders. Reaching from the two padded armrests was a similar section that lined up with her forehead.
Pierce made minor adjustments to the rungs at her waist and below her breasts and then set a hand on the back of her neck. “Drop your head to the headrest, London. If you try to hold it up, the strain will make your neck sore.”
She lowered her face. Her hair fell all around her, cascading in ringlets that blocked her vision.
She closed her eyes and tried to relax as he strapped her onto the bench in eight places—ankles and wrists as well as just below her knees and elbows. There were other straps available for her torso, but he apparently rightfully determined they wouldn’t be necessary. It wasn’t as if she could escape.
He stepped behind her, set his hands on her naked back and smoothed them up and down to her shoulders and then to her butt cheeks. His actions calmed and warmed her at the same time.
After a few minutes, he rounded to one side and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You have no idea how sexy you are strapped down for me with your tits hanging like this.” He reached out to lightly stroke her closest breast and then flicked a finger over her distended nipple.
She moaned.
“God, I love that sound already. You may not speak except to use your safeword, but make all the sexy noises you want.”
She wasn’t wearing a blindfold, but with her thick hair curtaining her vision, she didn’t need one. She had no way of shaking the hair out of the way. Had he realized this and arranged her in this position on purpose?
When the front end of the bench slowly started lowering, she took a deep breath. She’d known of this feature too, but watching and experiencing were entirely different animals, especially as her ass became more and more presented to anyone watching. As her face lowered, the highest part of her sticking up and out was her butt.
Apparently satisfied with his efforts, Pierce rounded to her back again and set his hands on her lower cheeks, massaging, molding, tempting. Next, he added her thighs to his exploration. And then he disappeared.
It didn’t surprise her that he was now standing to one side rustling through his duffle bag. After all, obviously something had to come out of that bag, otherwise he wouldn’t have brought it.
When he returned to stand between her spread thighs, she heard a strange noise that made her flinch. Like the snap of a rubber band. What would he do with a rubber band? It would sting if he started snapping it over her skin.
The same noise startled her again, and then silence. Nothing more than rustling at her back. She could see nothing.
When he set his hands on her again, she noted they were no longer bare on her skin. Gloves? They were
soft, but that didn’t halt her confusion.
He repeated the massage of her back and then lower before reaching higher and smoothing the soft material down her shoulders and arms. “Have you experienced stimulation gloves before?”
She swallowed and shook her head. “No.” She hadn’t even seen them before. How was that possible? She was still trying to wrap her mind around what he was stroking her with.
“Have you used an electric wand?”
Oh. Holy shit. “Only once.” Mark had used one on her in a demo that ended with her having four orgasms and left her craving cock.
“This will be similar, but the tingling will be spread out more. It will come from all of my fingers and my palms.”
She had no idea how he adjusted the dial, but it must have been with his feet because both his hands were on her back when the tingling began. It was slow at first, but as he ran his hands up and down her back, she closed her eyes and absorbed the sensation.
It compared to nothing she’d ever experienced. She wrapped her fingers around the end of the padded armrest and gripped as she released a long breath.
Pierce’s hands were like magic spreading up over her shoulders and neck and then down to her lower back. “Shall I increase the intensity?”
“Yesss,” she breathed out. The tingles were like a TENS machine but spread out and moving around. Better than a massage. As he adjusted the intensity, she moaned. Holy shit, it felt good.
Little sparks raced through her body, and even though he wasn’t touching her sex, she felt the waves all the way to her clit anyway. Like thousands of jolts of static all at once. Deep in her muscles.
He slowly, meticulously, deliberately smoothed his hands down over her butt and then down her thighs.
She stiffened when his thumbs got close to her pussy, but he retreated instead of inching closer, making her pant. She squirmed, her torso rocking back and forth, begging for more.
Instead of obliging her and reaching between her legs, he eased up her back to her shoulders and then down her arms toward her elbows. She wanted more, but she bit her lip to keep from speaking out loud.
Pierce knew what he was doing. Though she hadn’t scened with him before, she’d grasped what sort of Dom he was within moments of him taking control. The kind that made women’s panties wet and left them breathless with anticipation.
“More?” he asked.
She whimpered. “Please.”
“Good girl. I like how you’re holding your tongue. I know that must be hard for you. I’ll decide how this scene plays out. If you can continue to keep from speaking out of turn, I might be willing to reward you. If not, you’ll find yourself sleeping with a tight knot in your stomach tonight.”
God, he was good. He was good with his hands and his demands. Effective. The sort of Dom who didn’t need to raise his voice or use pain to get his point across. She was melting under his command.
Wetness had soaked the thin silk between her legs and was leaking down her thighs. Embarrassing? Maybe. She wasn’t sure she cared. She’d never been this aroused with virtually no contact to her pussy or her clit.
The tingly spread of fingers returned to her ass, pressing, molding, spreading her cheeks. Rhythmically. When the intensity increased again, she whimpered and bit into her lower lip. Don’t speak. Don’t speak. Perhaps if she repeated those two words to herself over and over, she would get relief.
Though she’d had orgasms in the main room before at the hands of a few Doms, she’d never had sex in here. She was admittedly a bit of an exhibitionist, but something about exposing herself to that level of intimacy was more than she was willing to share with a crowd.
At the moment, however, she didn’t care who watched. If Pierce was willing to thrust into her, she would enjoy every second, probably screaming loud enough to shake the foundation of the building.
His hands seemed even larger as they spread to her thighs again. His fingers pressed into her, pulling her wider, causing her lower lips to part. A rush of air against her pussy made her moan.
She held her breath as he inched his fingers closer to her pussy and pulled her lips farther apart. Her clit pulsed. The hood retracted either on its own or from the pressure of his fingertips. She knew it was throbbing and exposed, but he didn’t touch her there.
When he retreated yet again and smoothed his hands up her back, she nearly cried. The sound that came from her lips was more like a mewl than a whimper. No words, but a definitive protest.
He leaned over her body and whispered close to her ear. “Such a good girl. Concentrate on your job. You only have the one.”
Her job. To remain silent. He was testing her to see if she could keep from begging for more. He’d hit her weak spot. Suddenly, she realized that although she’d never watched him perform, he’d seen her more times than she could count. He’d watched, listened, learned. He knew her weaknesses and her quirks. He knew she sometimes topped a bit from the bottom. He wasn’t having that, and he was intentionally setting the tone for what the dynamic would be between them.
And with that realization, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they meshed together in the fetish world. He hadn’t made her come, but when he finally let her orgasm, it would be powerful and consuming.
Eyes closed, mouth hanging open, shallow breaths in and out, she concentrated on every second of the scene. Pierce repeated his actions over and over, teasing her closer to the edge every time he approached her sex. He adjusted the intensity of the tingles up and down without warning, never going too far, never going far enough.
She slid into her head as her blood seemed to rush to her pussy. Anticipation built. If he didn’t let her come, she might implode. There was also the possibility she might come without direct contact to any particular location. He hadn’t told her she couldn’t come. His only demand had been that she not speak.
Suddenly, his hands were on her waist, sliding around to her breasts. He lowered the level of the tiny shocks as he cupped her breasts and then tapped her nipples.
She lifted her head off the pad and cried out, not in pain but pleasure. Apparently he knew the difference because he didn’t stop. He pinched the erect tips of her nipples, sending waves of pleasure through her body. As if there was a direct connection between her tits and her clit, she felt the tingles all the way to that most needy swollen nub.
And then she came. Hard. She might have screamed. She could hear nothing around her. It seemed like she was underwater, sounds muted and blocked. Seconds after the waves of her orgasm hit, Pierce slid his hand down her waist. One went around her hip to reach for her clit from the front. The other eased over her butt and pressed on the opening to her sex from behind.
She arched her neck higher, her mouth falling open. She couldn’t catch a breath as one orgasm morphed into two. He stroked over her clit and then pressed a finger against it before he pushed two or three fingers into her pussy.
Sensation overload. That second orgasm either lasted for hours or turned into a third. It didn’t matter. It was heavenly. Her stiff body held on for the ride as her clit pulsed around the electrical tingles pressing against the swollen epicenter that provided most of her orgasms. Meanwhile, his fingers delivered against the inside walls of her sex. Maybe he stroked her G-spot. It was hard to be sure where he was touching her since every inch of skin was on fire, lit up by the tingles that spread out and raced up her body and down her legs.
After what seemed like forever, but surely had only been minutes, Pierce slowly lowered the level of the electronic device until the tingles disappeared, and she was left with nothing but the stroke of his fingers in all the right places.
“Take a breath, London.”
She inhaled sharply, not realizing she was light-headed from lack of oxygen.
“Good girl. Another one.”
She obeyed as he eased his fingers from her pussy and then removed them from her entirely.
She started panting. Her body shook with the aftermath of
the explosion. Uncontrollable shivers that consumed her while goose bumps rose all over her skin. A chill seemed to fill the air, but she knew it was only the letdown from the incredible release.
Pierce quickly moved from limb to limb, unbuckling the straps that held her down. A blanket landed on her back before he lifted her off the bench. Luckily, he pulled her into his embrace, cradling her against his chest. She didn’t think she could have stood on her own feet.
As he turned to head across the room, she noted he was no longer wearing his shirt. Her cheek pressed against his bare chest. She had no idea when he’d removed it, but she was grateful for the warmth as she continued to shiver.
Her eyes wouldn’t open, but she acknowledged they had at least entered a recovery room when Pierce lowered onto a loveseat, hugging her tight. He ran his hands over her body rapidly as if sensing that she was cold and needed to be warmed up.
It seemed as though he’d just rescued her naked body from the side of a mountain. She couldn’t stop the trembling.
His hand slid to the back of her neck and tipped her head forward as something touched her lips. “Water, baby. Take a sip.”
She licked her dry lips and let him pour the elixir into her mouth. It was hard to swallow, but she managed, and then leaned closer to consume more.
“That’s a girl,” he whispered as his free hand smoothed her hair.
When her thirst was satisfied, she leaned back, unable to continue supporting her head. She let her cheek loll to the side against his chest.
Pierce tucked the blanket tighter around her and gently rocked her. “Rest, baby.” He kissed her temple as she took him literally and let herself fall asleep.
Chapter 11
My God, she’s fucking perfect.
Pierce stared down at the sleeping beauty in his arms and tried to swallow past the knot in his throat. He’d been so turned on that he’d feared he might come in his pants. He wasn’t even sure he cared if he did. Now that he was sitting, holding her, he reined in the little head and backed away from the precipice.
Claiming London Page 9