Chapter 15 #3
Now…would any of her fears of bondage come to the surface?
He watched her try to move.
The color rose in her face as she learned even her torso was restrained. But she displayed no distress.
Stepping back, he looked her over. Bent over the length of the table, arms outstretched and secured. Waist secured. Legs apart with ankles secured. She was tall enough the table ended at her pelvis, leaving her mound easily touchable.
“This will do quite nicely. Except for this covering.” Scissors were in the outside pocket of his bag—readily available—and he used them to cut off her briefs from under the black corset.
The corset’s leather garters held up black fishnet stockings and beautifully framed her white ass. “Tu es si belle.”
He brushed his fingertips over her, hearing her breath catch. Her legs were the perfect distance apart to let him see her glistening pussy.
Oui, they’d both enjoy what was to come.
But first… Alex had mentioned she’d shown interest in barehanded spanking. Might she prefer it to paddles? “Although this kind of table is designed for caning, tonight, I will use my hand.”
He could see her swallow. Her expression held worry, desire. No fear. He caressed her, playing with the garters, her buttocks, moving closer and away from her pussy. A few light swats pinkened her skin in preparation for what was to come.
“You were deliberately disobedient in the foyer.” The next swat was harder, the sound satisfying. “The consequence is this spanking.
And they would find out if the consequences were punishment—or reward.
Ow, ow, ow. Master Drake had a hard hand—and she couldn’t move out of range. Couldn’t shield her butt with her hands, couldn’t even wiggle. Talk about being forced to submit.
His next three spanks hit the undercurve of her buttocks—owww. Why was there so much more sensitive?
A serious burn set in, and a whine escaped. The corset was restricting her stomach, her chest— breathing—and made everything more intense.
And the feel of his hand—his warm, bare hand—was somehow incredibly different than a wooden paddle. More direct or personal or intimate or something.
Two more spanks, then more spanks. Oh, it burned; tears filled her eyes, even as a slow, molten throbbing woke a hunger low in her abdomen.
He stroked over her stockings, her inner bare thighs, and touched her pussy. Just like with the paddles, she was wet.
His fingers circled her clit, massaged her folds, teased her entrance. Leaning against her, he rubbed his hard erection against her so-very-painful butt and made her hiss.
Made her want desperately to be filled.
He dipped his hands into her corset to cup her breasts, to squeeze them and pinch the nipples.
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything to slow the pleasure, the pain.
His breath touched her ear, his voice a dark murmur. “Soon, soon, I will take you. Push inside your tight little asshole and enjoy how it feels around me as you come.”
She froze for a moment, a flashback flitting through her mind, and then he was stroking her hair. His voice softened. “Aralia, you are safe, always. Tell me your safeword, ma chérie.”
Her answer was only a whisper. “Red.”
“Oui.” He ran his hands up and down her upstretched arms. “What color are you right now?”
The memories had disappeared. He’d restrained her, hurt her—carefully—and if she used her safeword, he’d stop. It felt as if she was falling forward into a giant leafy pile of trust.
No, more than trust.
Arousal was rising, turning into open need. “I’m green, Sir.” She paused. “Is there a color that says more, more, more. Or…take me?”
His seductive laugh sent shivers through her. “Perhaps we need one—purple.”
Purple. Yes. A big, huge, royalty-laden purple. “Purple!”
He was still laughing, even as he rolled her nipples firmly, slowly, until pleasure and pain made her toes curl.
Pulling back, he ran his hand down her body to her bottom and pulled her cheeks apart.
The cool lube on her heated rim would’ve had her squirming…
if she could move. He teased the rim, slid on a glove, and inserted a finger.
The penetration there, in such a private place, made her feel somewhere between being a dirty girl and being… possessed.
“Good girl,” he murmured, adding another finger. He would be bigger—much bigger. Anxiety tensed her around him, even as excitement raced through her blood in fizzy bubbles.
She heard his pants zipper, the sound of a condom wrapper. He pressed against her, oh, so big. “Push out, bébé.”
As she did, he steadily slid in. Oh, the burn, the stretch. Too wide. She tensed. Suddenly, the head was in.
She was panting. So full, she was so full.
More lubricant, wet and cool. He pushed in farther, and she was making funny sounds, uh, uh, uh, not quite whimpering as he penetrated her.
Slowly, mercilessly, he filled her completely. His hard body pressed against her burning ass.
“Mmm, you feel magnificent. Tonight, rather than being silent, you will make noise. I want to hear you.” When he leaned forward, the angle of his cock changed, making her gasp.
He laughed. “Not nearly loud enough. After all, there might be others watching who’d enjoy the sounds of a little submissive being taken. Orgasming.”
What—wait, watching? Not Theodore or the person with the bone-chilling voice from the class yesterday or Drake’s mean ex or… No, Master Drake is here. I’m safe.
Yet there were so many other people around, ones she’d met this weekend and tons she hadn’t met, and she could almost feel the pressure of their gazes. On her.
They would see her bent over, his hands on her breasts. Her heart beat harder as excitement rose. They would see him thrusting.
Gods.
Although, taking her…there. Well, there was no way she’d get off, which was good, really. Coming in public was, maybe, too intimate, too—
He made that French-sounding pffft. “You are thinking, ma douce. Let’s put a stop to that.” Pulling out, he spanked her, one cheek, the other, over and over.
Her bottom burned, stung, hurt. Nothing else mattered.
Until he drove in again, the burning rim stretching around him, and her cry ringing in her ears.
He reached around her, his fingers sliding over her clit, one side and the other, so very knowledgeable. The pleasure was overwhelming.
She tried to move—couldn’t. Could barely breathe. Every muscle in her body tightened, as everything spiraled down to his fingers and…
His cock. Withdrawing, pressing in, slow and steady.
Oh Gods, I’m going to come. No, not here. She tried to shake her head.
But he took hold of her hair in a hard grip, pulling her head up as he drove in. Hard. Taking her as she’d asked.
No, going much further than she’d asked. Taking complete control—and the feeling crashed over her, throwing her into an unstoppable, hard orgasm.
She panted through it—silently—and lay limp.
He slowed. And laughed. “Stubborn submissive.” He released her hair with a playful tug, running his hands down her back, squeezing her tender ass cheeks and making her squeak. “It appears you need another.”
Her eyes went wide. He was still thick and long inside her. She’d gotten off; he hadn’t.
A buzzing sounded right before something pressed against her clit. The surge of pleasure was shocking. The vibrator didn’t use any weird random patterns, just got right down to business with serious, heavy throbbing that drove her upward relentlessly.
He straightened—added more lube—and set to a steady, hard rhythm.
She was helpless against his will. Couldn’t move, impaled on his shaft, and the vibrations on her clit were inescapable.
She hovered on the threshold of coming.
And then he slowed. The vibe moved away. Damn him. She opened her mouth to curse him out.
No, not smart.
The vibrator returned. His speed increased. Almost… almost…
He did it again!
“Oh, please, pleeeeze, Master Drake. Pleeeeze.”
“But of course, ma chérie.”
The next thrust was hard and deep and so, so satisfying. The vibe settled firmly right. On. Top. Of her clit.
He threaded the fingers of one hand into the laces of her corset, anchoring himself, and tightening it at the same time. She couldn’t move, could barely breathe. And being controlled, unable to take a deep breath, swept her away.
Too many sensations.
Everything flashed white. She tried to arch—and couldn’t—and the pleasure was overwhelming. “Aaaah, ahh, ahh!”
Drake grinned at the beautiful sound of a submissive coming. Of this submissive.
Panting, flushing red, thrashing as best she could despite the restraints and corset. He could feel the spasms, squeezing him so tightly.
His dick demanded a faster pace.
He held off long enough to loosen the corset ties to ensure she could breathe.
Merde, she felt good. He gripped her waist to add emphasis as he hammered into her, feeling a burn ignite low in his spine. Heat seared through his balls and into his cock. He pressed deep, deeper as pleasure coursed outward in hard, fast jerks.
Ahh, parfait. Leaning forward, he ran his hands up her body. “Do you feel adequately punished—and taken—ma petite Ray? Or should we begin again?”
She giggled so hard he could feel it in his dick.
“Ooooh, I can breathe again.” Standing upright, Ray inhaled deeply, almost shocked at feeling her lungs able to freely expand.
Drake dropped her corset onto his toybag, covering her stockings, which he’d already stripped off her. Smiling slightly, he ran his hands over the ridges left on her skin.
Still a bit fuzzy and weak-kneed, she rested her forehead against his shoulder. And felt…funny. Too open and vulnerable, all her emotions swirling around like being in a cruel blender. Tears clogged her throat and made her breathing hitch.
“Bébé.” He pulled her closer, enclosing her in his arms, and simply talked to her, sometimes in French, sometimes in English. Telling her how well she’d done. How proud he was.
Until the feeling of being defenseless faded away. She could feel the softness of his shirt under her cheek, against her breasts. Feel his warm hands stroking over her back. His breath ruffling her hair.
She was all right. “Thank you, Sir.”
Releasing her, he kissed the top of her head. “My pleasure.”
As her damp skin cooled, she shivered.
“Wait.” He draped a soft, thin blanket around her shoulders. “You will sit down there while I clean the equipment.”
“I should do it. Isn’t it a submissive’s job?”
“Pfft, not always. Sometimes all a submissive can do is sit and quiver, especially after a good session with impact toys.” His teeth flashed in his tanned face.
“Oh.” Being a masochist must be rough. “I’m okay now, really. Where’s the cleaning stuff? Um, Sir.”
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly in a very Dominant expression. A wicked glint lit his dark eyes. “Paper towels and spray are in the stand by the wall.”
When she returned, he had his bag packed up. He held out his hand. “Blanket, please.”
Her corset was strapped to the side of his bag. “But…”
His chin rose fractionally.
And just like that she was handing him the blanket. In movies, drill sergeants were always shouting. They should take lessons. A Dom didn’t even have to speak to get instant obedience.
A waft of coolness brushed over her body—her very naked body. She opened her mouth to say…something, but Master Drake merely smiled and motioned to the table.
Right, right, get on with it.
To her delight, he took a paper towel and wiped down the other side of the table. When everything was pristine, she hesitated and trudged over to return the cleaning supplies.
Naked.
She went past a male Dom, then a female one. Tried not to see the smiles. A submissive who was clothed, the lucky dog, winked at her sympathetically.
When she returned, Drake had the bag slung over his shoulder and…dammit, the blanket tucked away.
“You’re going to make me walk out there with no clothes on?” Her voice actually squeaked at the end.
“Oui.” A corner of his mouth tilted up. “No one may touch, but I enjoy sharing your beauty.”
She glared. “What if I don’t— Ow!” Her tender bottom burned again from his swift swat.
Rather than filling the air with explanations or calling her names, he stood, hands clasped behind his back, waiting for her to catch up mentally.
Because…she’d misstepped. This was a power exchange. A consenting one. Even if it meant she would be naked. “Sorry, Sir,” she said grudgingly.
“Are you, Aralia?”
She opened her mouth to snap—and stopped. That was twice he’d called her on her attitude. Oddly enough, it felt right. Satisfying. Because he was in charge—and he knew her and liked her and still wouldn’t let her get away with anything.
A knot inside her loosened. She didn’t have to deal with…life. Not right now. The world was his problem.
She sighed and met his gaze. “Really, I’m sorry. And thank you.”
His smile held approval. He put his free arm around her waist, keeping her close as they walked across the foyer. “So…bébé, should we go to a quiet aftercare room or would you prefer to stay out here, have something to eat and drink, and talk with people.”
Um. Huh. She’d been a little off right at the end of their scene, all her defenses gone. But he’d hugged her and talked to her, and then she’d been back to normal.
“An aftercare room…now…would be boring. You did everything I needed already.”
He nodded. “Such was my impression of how you were feeling.” He looked around and then headed them over to a group of people. All dressed in various kinds of fetwear. “I will enjoy playing with my submissive’s breasts while I talk.”
And she realized…again…she was naked.
Dammit, I didn’t think this one through.