41. Alina
41
ALINA
C asanova is nothing like what I expected. I knew the memberships were expensive, but it’s still a sex club, and I guess I assumed it would look ever-so-slightly seedy.
I was very wrong. The space is luxurious but not ostentatiously so. Gold chandeliers offer dim but warm lighting. The carpet is plush, and people are elegantly dressed. If I didn’t know what Casanova was, I’d assume this was an upscale lounge where the rich and beautiful hung out. “Nobody is walking around naked with a collar around their neck,” I whisper to Tomas once we surrender our phones and enter the club. “In fact, nobody is naked. I thought there’d be a lot more of that.”
He chuckles. “It’s early by club standards. Give it time.”
An attendant leads us to a booth in the back. I gawk as I follow her, drinking in everything. To my left, a long bar lines the wall. A man sitting there alone nods to Tomas in greeting. A pair of women chatting with the bartender stop their conversation and openly check him out as we pass by. My lips tighten at their blatant once-over, and I reach out and link my arm with his in a proprietary manner. Back off, ladies. He’s mine.
Even if it’s only for tonight.
We pass the dance floor and reach our booth. I slide in, and Tomas sits across from me. “Enjoy your evening,” the attendant says. “Please ring the bell if you need service. Can I get you started with something to drink?”
“Sparkling water for me, please,” Tomas replies. “Slice of lemon.”
“I’ll have the same.”
I have so many questions for Tomas. I wait until our server delivers our drinks before peppering him with them. “How long have you been coming here?”
“Since I moved to Venice,” he replies. “If you’re looking for a certain type of sex, and you don’t want a relationship, this is a good place to meet somebody.”
My imagination throws up an image of Tomas chatting up some beautiful woman. I wipe my palms on my dress. “Do you have sex here, or do you take them back to your house?”
“There are private rooms in the back, so yes, I’ve had sex here. I don’t take anyone back to my house. You’re the only woman who’s ever slept in my bed.”
My head jerks up. “Ever?” It makes sense, in a twisted sort of way. Tomas has been pretty open about not wanting to be in a relationship. “She really broke your heart, didn’t she?”
A pensive look fills his eyes at my mention of Estela. “At the start, that’s what it was about. Now? It feels like a bad habit.” The music changes to something with a slow, thumping beat. “The evening is yours, dolcezza. We could stay and have a drink, watch the floor show, and go home. Or, we could play.” He leans forward. “Tell me what you want.”
His smile is a carnal invitation, and I intend to accept. “I want to play.”
“Tell me your safe word.”
I wet my lips. “Asset.”
“That’s never not going to be funny to me,” he responds, his lips twitching. “Asset, it is. Come here, Ali.”
I get up to sit next to him. He pulls me closer, my back pressing against his chest. “You want to be tied up tonight, Ali?” he murmurs into my ear.
The low, pounding drumbeat of the music pulses in rhythm with the throbbing between my legs. “Yes, please.”
“What else are you interested in exploring tonight?”
“I don’t know.” I’ve read books and watched porn, so I have some idea of all the things that could happen. But I feel like a kid in a candy store, overwhelmed with the choices. He could spank me and flog me, bind my breasts with rope, or use clamps on my nipples. He could do all that and so much more. How do I pick? Where do I even start?
“I like being spanked,” I admit in a low voice. It’s not much of a confession; Tomas saw exactly how wet I got when he spanked me this morning. “Maybe more of that?”
“Would you like to be spanked with something other than my hand?”
His voice is serious, but there’s a gleam in his eyes that gives me pause. “Like what? A whip?”
“It’s probably best if I show you.” He presses the button that summons our server. “Could you bring us a set of impact toys, please?” He gives me a speculative glance. “I think my companion would be interested in trying a paddle, a flogger, and a crop.”
Oh. My. God. My cheeks flame as the server writes our order on her tablet. “What kind of flogger would she like?” she asks, addressing her question to Tomas. “Our basic option is a cowhide leather with fifty falls, but we also have a twenty-fall version for beginners and one with eighty falls if you want a more intense experience. Then there are our petal floggers, which are made of recycled bicycle tires. The rubber is a stronger sting than the cowhide, and it leaves petal-shaped marks on bare skin.”
“What do you think, Ali?”
I think I’m going to die of embarrassment. “I’ll take the regular version,” I mumble, unable to look her in the eye.
She punches it in. “For paddles, we have leather, wood, and fur. If you pick the leather, there’s a looped option, a three-layer leather slapper?—”
This goes on for a while. Tomas is clearly enjoying my squirming because he takes his time with the selection of toys. “People are going to see them,” I hiss when the server finally leaves to fill our order. “She’s going to bring the toys here, and everyone will be able to see them.”
“So what?” he asks calmly.
I open my mouth to answer and then close it. I don’t really have an answer to his question. The server was unfazed by Tomas’s request. We’re in a booth, mostly hidden from view, and nobody is watching us. So what if she deposits a collection of sex toys on the table? We’re in a sex club.
Our server returns with a tray loaded up with floggers and whips. She sets the perverted display on the table with a smile. “Can I get you anything else?”
I can’t look at her. My eyes lock onto a black leather flogger, its tails as long as my forearm. A shiver runs through me when I picture Tomas behind me, swinging it down on my bared, defenseless ass.
“Thank you, Natalya,” Tomas says calmly. “We’ll ring the bell if we need anything else.”
Just then, the hostess escorts a couple to the booth behind us. The man is wearing a suit, and the woman is wearing a short red dress that barely covers her ass. Her eyes rest on our table, and a mischievous smile curves her lips. “Looks like you have a fun evening planned.” She holds out a business card to Tomas. “Let us know if you feel like company.”
I’m so mortified I can’t even look up. Tomas takes it with a murmur of thanks. “Focus,” he says when she’s gone. “It’s not your job to worry about what other people are thinking. I’m in charge. Tonight, you only have two responsibilities. You can obey, or you can use your safe word. Now, look at the toys on this table and tell me what you’d like to try.”
Okay, I can do this. I take a deep breath, lean forward, and pick up the black flogger. “Can I test it on myself?”
“Go ahead.” He leans back, stretching his legs out. He looks calm, but his eyes are hot and intent, and the look in them makes me shiver.
I swing the flogger on the inside of my forearm. The tails snap on my skin, hot and tight.
“What does it feel like?” Tomas asks. “Does it hurt?”
I don’t know how to describe the sensation. It felt more ticklish than painful. “Not really. But I didn’t swing very hard.”
“No, you didn’t,” he says. He takes it from me. I half-expect him to swing it on my arm, but instead, he trails the falls through his fingers, an expression of appreciation on his face. “It’s all in the wrist. I can make it hurt, or I can make it pleasurable.” He gives me a closed-mouth smile. “Or both.”
I shift in my seat, hot and restless and squirmy. “I want to try it.” I pick up the crop and swing it on my arm. This time, the pain is sharp and immediate. “I’m a maybe on this.”
“There’s no maybe. Commit to it. Yes or no only.”
I try everything and sort them into two piles, the ones that I want to try and the ones I don’t. Tomas looks them over thoughtfully, and then his gaze moves back to me. “Are you wearing panties, Ali?”
What kind of question is that? “Yes.”
“Take them off.”
I start to get up to go to the bathroom, but he stops me by putting a firm hand on my thigh. “Perhaps I wasn’t specific enough,” he says. “Take them off here.”
Oh God oh God oh God. I thought the toys were embarrassing enough, but this? I can’t do this. “But there are people watching—” I start to say but make myself stop. My heart is racing, and butterflies are fluttering madly in my stomach. Tomas has me feeling dangerously off-balance, and I like it. “May I ask questions?”
“You may.”
“Do I have to stand up to take them off, or can I do it sitting down?” We’re in a booth. I bet I can wriggle out of them without drawing attention to myself. Sure, if someone’s staring right at me, they can probably figure out what I’m doing, but nobody is doing that.
“You can do it any way you want.”
“Okay.” I lift my butt off the seat, reach under my dress, and pull my panties down to my knees. I slide them off and ball them up in my hand.
“Give them to me, please.”
I slide them to him under the table. He takes them from me without comment, and then he sets them down on top of the table, right next to his drink.
I swallow hard. They’re right there . My black lace panties are right there on the table, and anyone passing by can see them.
Tomas rings for the server again. “Could you put these toys in a private room, please?” he says, indicating my ‘Yes’ pile.
“Of course, Signor.” She starts to pick up the tray, hesitates when she sees my panties, and then continues her task, a small smile dancing about her lips. I keep my eyes downcast, my face red, unable to look her directly in the eyes.
Tomas waits for her to leave. “Are you turned on, Ali?” he asks, his long fingers absently stroking my panties.
God, yes. My face might feel like it’s on fire, but I’m wildly aroused. My insides are clenched tight with anticipation. He’s going to take me to a private room, he’s going to run the tails of the flogger contemplatively through his fingers, and then he’s going to bring them down on my bare ass, sharp and hard. I feel hot and cold and shivery all at once.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Show me.” I should have guessed that was coming. “Push a finger into your cunt and hold it up so I can see. And Ali,” he warns. “No touching your clit. Tonight, your orgasms belong to me.”
I shoot a glance around the room. Nobody seems to be watching us. The couple who propositioned us are having an intent conversation. Two women are on the dance floor, their hands roaming blatantly all over each other. At the bar, a man passionately kisses a woman, sticking his hand down the front of her dress at the same time. Everyone here is absorbed in their own private world. At least, I hope they are.
As unobtrusively as I can, I shove a finger into my pussy and hold up the evidence of my arousal, the wetness gleaming in the dim golden light.
“Good girl.” He captures my wrist and sucks my finger into his mouth. “Delicious,” he murmurs. “Do you want to come tonight, Ali?”
“Yes, Sir,” I respond promptly. “More than once, I hope.”
His smile turns amused. “Greedy.” He sits back in the booth, lets his knees fall open, and pats his lap. “But I’m in a good mood tonight. Go ahead. Sit on my knee and rub yourself to an orgasm.”
You ever start out floating in the shallow end of the pool and suddenly realize you’re in the deep end and the bottom’s dropped out from under your feet and you’re drowning? That’s how I feel.
“In front of everyone?” A shiver rolls through me. “I can’t.”
“I wasn’t asking, dolcezza,” he replies. “That was an order.”
He waits. For my compliance or for my safeword. Either will be okay, I know. If I’m truly uneasy, I don’t have to do this. This is an unsettling game, and Tomas is keeping me off-balance, but it is, in the end, just a game.
And I hate backing down from a challenge.
I inch backward and straddle his powerfully muscled thigh, giving silent thanks for my choice of dress. The silk bodice hugs my breasts, but the skirt has enough ease that I don’t have to hike it up.
Even so, I feel exposed. And painfully aroused.
“Good girl,” he says, his voice warm. “You’re being so obedient that I think I’ll help you out.” He pushes his hand between my legs from behind until his wrist rests on top of his thigh, and his palm is pressed against my pussy. I grind into it, my body needing—craving—his touch, and he puts his thumb on my clit, rubbing it in a circle. “There you go,” he says, wrapping his other hand around my throat. “Ride my knee. Rub yourself on my thumb. Show me how much you want this.”
I start slow, my cheeks aflame, but soon speed up. I stop caring about whether someone’s watching and surrender to sensation. I’m slick and wet and oh-so-needy. I ride his knee because he’s given me an order, and tonight, all I have to do is obey. I get off on the freedom of submitting, grind my hips on his thigh, and press my clit into his thumb, my eyes fluttering shut as I take my pleasure.
My orgasm hits me with the force of a tsunami. I ride it out, every last quiver, with Tomas’s thumb against my clit and his hand on my throat. When I’m done, he doesn’t let me relax. “On your feet,” he orders, his voice hoarse. I slip out of the booth, and he follows, a big wet stain on his knee. I blush, looking at the evidence of my arousal, and his gaze follows, and a smile touches his lips. “Look at what you did,” he says sternly. “You’ve ruined my pants.”
Hot anticipation runs riot through me. The flogger I chose, the leather crop, the feathered tickler and the fur-lined paddle. He’s going to use them on me now.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” I whisper, my eyes downcast.
“That’s not good enough, is it, Ali?” Laughter coats his voice. “Do you think your juices are going to come off the linen?”
“No, Sir,” I say as meekly as I can. “I was very careless. Please punish me.”