Chapter 19
Ford
As the elevator climbs higher, so does my irritation.
I’m in a bad mood, and it’s only gotten worse with each passing hour. Jackson spent all fucking day harassing me with texts about speeding things along. If I’d seen him in person today, I might’ve pressed my Glock to his temple, and if I’d done that, I certainly would’ve pulled the trigger.
The hourglass is running out on my opportunity to get the answers I need, at least as far as these sessions go, since our last one is next week. I thought I’d have more time, but I don’t.
The three of us have already had six lessons before today, covering setting up scenes, risk-aware consensual kink, safety and warning signs associated with impact, communication, pleasure and pain dynamics, hard and soft limits, and countless other things.
After all that, I still don’t have anything to give Jackson.
When the metallic doors part, my annoyance nearly consumes me.
Genevieve has a stark-naked Sloane lying on the bed with her legs spread wide, rope wrapped around each ankle and tied to the bedposts. Her wrists are bound together over her head and secured to the headboard with a strap that disappears beneath the top of the mattress.
Sloane’s long, honey hair fans out over the black sheets, and I grit my teeth as I imagine what much shorter, much blonder hair would look like splayed out before me instead.
Based on my mood, I shouldn’t have come, but I still have a job to do.
“Good evening, Superman,” the subject of my fantasies chirps. She looks every bit as gorgeous as she did on Julien’s arm the other night. I wonder if he’s ever seen her long legs on display or her breasts cupped by leather and lace the way they are now?
Sloane twists her neck, grinning at me like I’m a dream come true, and I resist the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose to abate the headache that’s blooming.
I nod curtly at the two women, worried that if I open my mouth, it’ll be to tell Genevieve that the only way I’m participating today is if she’s the one tied up.
I might even bark at Sloane to get lost, but that would fuck up my mission, so I simply clamp my mouth shut.
Shrugging out of my suit jacket, I drape it over the arm of the couch.
“We’re covering climaxes today,” the Madam explains. “I thought Sloane and I could demonstrate forced orgasms.”
Sloane and I. Good, that’s a fucking relief, even if I’m going to spend the rest of the night imagining what Genevieve would look like coming…repeatedly. My cock stiffens in my pants at the thought, and I roll the sleeves of my shirt up as I busy myself pouring a scotch.
With a drink in hand, I spin one of the chairs in the seating area around and take a seat, watching as the Domme produces a cordless wand with an end that glistens and a few Velcro straps.
I track her every movement down to the way her knuckles bend as she positions the vibrator between Sloane’s legs, her red-painted fingernails glinting in the warm lights of the room.
Genevieve’s hair is straight today, with one side tucked neatly behind her ear.
She smiles at something Sloane says that I missed, too enamored with her sparkling eyes.
Her full, red lips move, revealing glimpses of her straight white teeth before pressing together.
After a second, I ascertain that she was speaking to me.
“What’d you say?”
Genevieve frowns, cocking her head to the side and studying me. “I asked if you’d like to control the wand. This was meant to be a demonstration, but she’s still your sub.”
My jaw flexes with how hard I grind my teeth. I don’t appreciate the way she says your sub, but I don’t address that. “Oh, no,” I grit, shaking my head. “I’ll watch.”
“Even if you don’t touch the wand, you’ll still be controlling things by proxy. I’ll be your hands, but you’ll run the scene.”
Thank fuck she’s been going along with the no-touching rule I imposed when it comes to Sloane. I’m not sure what I’d have done otherwise.
“Fine.” I nod.
Genevieve observes me for another moment, our gazes tethered together. Her left eyebrow is arched, her lips thinning the longer we study each other.
“Are you alright?” she finally questions, her tone icy cold and unyielding.
“Because if your mind isn’t right, I won’t have you in this room.
I told you before, you’re engaging in a power-exchange.
If you aren’t in a place to assume the responsibility that comes with being a Dom, then get out.
” Her arm juts to the side as she points her index finger toward the elevator.
This is the version of the woman before me that has men and women prostrating themselves before her. She’s formidable, powerful, and she looks sexy as fuck. Almost as alluring as she is when her mouth is forming the word Sir.
Unfortunately, I think she has a point. My mind is floating like a halo above the badge sitting in my jacket pocket that bestows me with authority and jurisdiction.
I need Genevieve to trust me, and even if, in some ways, I’m an actor, a liar, a fraud, this is the most authentic I’ve ever been on a job. I’m here to learn something today, and that’s going to prove difficult if I can’t focus.
“I’m here. I’m in the moment,” I tell her, mentally trying to re-screw my head on.
Genevieve places a hand on her hip, and I know that I’m not going to like what she says even before she speaks. “I hope that’s true. Should I make you lick my shoes to prove just how in the moment you are?”
My lip curls at the thought, and I don’t bother schooling my expression. “You don’t actually want me to do that,” I assert, my features hardening as I recline in my seat.
I’m positive I’m right. While she’s my mentor of sorts, I’m the one with the power here.
I’m not sure she recognizes that she relinquishes it when I’m around, but she does.
She freely passes me the control on a platter.
However, something about my mood jarred her tonight and made her scramble to reclaim her dominion.
“Why not?”
I smirk. “You’re a good Domme, so you’d never ask me to become someone or something I wasn’t. I’m a lot of things, but a man on the floor, kissing your shoes, isn’t on that list.”
Now that I’ve sampled domination, I have no desire to taste the flavor of anything else, except perhaps her pussy.
Her chest rises and falls twice, her eyes scanning my face as if to detect a lie. Abruptly, she turns back to Sloane. “I’m sorry for that delay. Is my favorite pain slut ready to begin? Since I prefer to use the traffic light system when forced orgasms are on the table, tell us your safe words.”
It’s far too easy for me to imagine what it’d be like to say similar words to Genevieve, and I take a sip of the whiskey instead of adjusting myself.
“Red or liar for stop, Madam, yellow for slow down, and green means I’m good to keep going.”
Genevieve glances at me, awaiting my instruction, and I dip my chin.
Even if I didn’t watch as the vibrator was turned on, I would’ve known it happened based on the audible gasp that Sloane emits, her back arching slightly.
The glistening head hovers over her clit, secured to her inner thigh by the straps.
She moans softly as Genevieve swipes something off the top of the dresser and rounds the bed. Hazel eyes lock onto mine, the dull sound of the vibrating wand filling the room as we scrutinize one another. Eventually, her attention flicks back to the woman now writhing on the bed.
The Domme holds up the item she grabbed in front of Sloane’s face, the metal chain catching the light ominously. “Give me your color.”
Sloane’s breathing is already ragged, but her voice is firm when she replies, “Very green.”
Genevieve’s attention flicks to me, and I order, “Put them on. Make them tight.”
Sloane squeaks the moment the alligator clamps are fastened to her rosy, peaked nipples. Her back bows, and she pulls at the restraints, her toes curling and fingers balled into fists as pleasure consumes her.
Her skin has a sheen to it, and she whimpers like she’s been left for dead as Genevieve strokes her head tenderly. “Tell your Doms how that feels.”
I force another sip of my drink down my throat and look away. I’m not either woman’s Dom, and that grates on my nerves. While I have zero interest in being Sloane’s anything, I’d move Heaven and Hell to control Genevieve’s pleasure and pain.
I’m not supposed to be having thoughts like this.
They’re getting in the way of the job I’m meant to complete.
I show up here, telling myself I can use these lessons as an excuse to dig around for information, but I still have nothing to show for it except a perpetual hard-on and an overactive imagination that was dormant before I met this woman.
“Good, but I’m…sensitive.”
Genevieve titters softly. “Oh, honey, that’ll get much worse before it gets better.”
Exasperated, I drain the last of my scotch, regretting that I didn’t make it a double. The girl on the bed squeals when Genevieve tugs on the chain connecting the nipple clamps, yanking on the ropes binding her to the bed as yet another orgasm captures her.
“It’s so much. Please, make it stop, please,” Sloane whines, tossing her head around.
Genevieve opens her mouth to respond, but it’s my deep voice that resonates through the room with my eyes fixed on the dominatrix who’s watching me in return. “You know how to make it stop. I want another, and you’re going to give it to me.”
“Yes,” she moans, her fingernails clawing at her bindings, but it’s the woman in black I’m fixated on.
“Why? Why are you going to come for me again, even though you’re oversensitive and on the edge?”
Genevieve’s eyes widen a fraction, and I know this is affecting her, at least I hope it is since it’s affecting me.
How many orgasms could I draw from Genevieve if I tied her down?
I wouldn’t be hands-free with her, though.
I’d want to position the wand right where I wanted it, so I could control every facet of her climax.
I’d sit between her legs, watching as her pussy spasmed and arousal dripped steadily from her, pooling beneath her.
I’d force the pleasure from her until it became pain, then repeat the process.
It might even be fun to deny her, to see her desperate enough to beg me to give her what she wants, what she needs.
What I wouldn’t do to see her plead with her eyes as she paints a picture with her words of just what she craves.
Would I give it to her immediately, or would I hold off? Both, I imagine.
“I want…” Sloane pants in reply. “To come for you because I’m your slut.”
My eyes never leave Genevieve’s, and the fire that blazes within her gaze is igniting me from the inside out. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, my attention never shifting. “That’s right, my slutty little toy for me to do whatever I want with. Allison, could you increase the speed?”
Genevieve licks her lips briefly before capturing her bottom lip between her teeth, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but she does as I ask, positioning herself between Sloane’s spread legs. Our victim quickly begins thrashing, attempting to outrun the onslaught of pleasure.
“Ah, ah, toys don’t complain. They only beg.”
She sputters a string of mediocre pleas, some that make no sense at all. Genevieve’s on her knees at the foot of the bed, her heated gaze on me as I command, “If you’re going to come this time, you need to ask.”
“Please,” she screeches, and I smirk at the Madam before counting to five in my mind.
Only then do I state, “You may come now.”
The vibrator stays in place through her climax. When I’m sure she’s coming down and the sensitivity is going to pose an issue, I declare, “Turn it off.”
Genevieve immediately removes the wand, not wasting a second. I climb to my feet, stalking over to the bed and silently begin untying Sloane’s wrists. Her eyes brim with tears as she sobs softly, her sniffles filling the air as her feet are freed.
Since she’s my sub—according to these two women—and Genevieve is surveying me with an expectant look, I settle onto the mattress. Hauling Sloane into my arms, I tuck her into my chest, her mascara staining my white shirt.
“You did so well,” I praise, pretending that the woman in my arms is actually the woman bustling around the room. “You were perfect.”
After several minutes, Genevieve passes me a bottle of water, our fingertips brushing as I take it from her. “Multiple orgasms can be dehydrating.”
I unscrew the cap before passing it to the petite woman curled against me.
“Before we meet next week, I’d like you to do some additional research on bondage, direct pressure points, and blood flow,” Genevieve instructs me, her tone firm.
Fuck me to Hell. How am I going to get any work done thinking about restraining Genevieve in a myriad of compromising positions?
I nod, but when she doesn’t look away, our gazes tethered, I gift her with the same compliment I gave Sloane, but this time, I truly mean it. “You did well, too. You were the perfect proxy, doing everything exactly as I would’ve.”
Her jaw tightens as she fights the shiver that still manages to rocket through her, jostling her shoulders slightly. Is she picturing my hands on her body? I am.
“I’m glad I could please you, Clark.”
It takes everything in me not to groan and abandon Sloane to drag her into my arms. This entire op is making me feel like I’ve got one of Genevieve’s cages of torment locked around my cock all the time. Only problem is, I’m not sure who has the key.