Chapter 4
FREYA
He’s all I think about, night and day. I dream of him, counting the minutes until I meet him at the club. It’s wrong on so many levels—wanting to have sex with someone whose face I’ve never seen. A stranger who kissed my most intimate flesh like it was his own personal feast and gave me the best orgasm of my life.
“Are you sure about this?” Celest asks as we wait for our coffee orders. “You don’t even know his name.”
“That’s part of the excitement.”
“I can find out which Dom it is. It wouldn’t be that difficult. The head of security, Flex, will know. Just to make sure he’s a good guy.” She’s right. I probably should know his name, but every time I think about the fact that he’s a total stranger, heat pools deep in my core, making my panties wet with anticipation.
“I’m not even sure if I’ll go.”
“Bullshit. It’s written all over your face. You’re usually so…”
“Boring. Predictable. Safe.”
There’s a hint of pity in her eyes. “Not at all. You’re amazing, smart, and completely kickass. I just worry that you’re jumping the gun with this, and you have no idea what you are getting yourself into. ”
“I need something more.”
“How do you know that, Freya? Why not dip your toe in before you dive off the highest springboard headfirst?”
“I can’t explain it. I just… know.”
“Okay, then I’ll be as supportive as I can. How does that look at the club? Am I allowed to be your friend there, or does the mask apply outside the private room?”
“I…” Shit. I didn’t think this through. Having Celest there would give me away almost immediately. I don’t want anyone to know who I am, and I do not want to know the identity of my Dom. The plan is to learn, not socialize. I don’t need a boyfriend. I want a man to teach me about BDSM and myself.
“Yeah, see the gaping hole in your idea now?”
“I won’t be anywhere other than the Dom’s private room. In and out. I won’t be sitting at the bar making small talk with people.”
“But you should. What better way to learn about BDSM than to make some friends? There is so much more to it. So many fun kinks to discover and explore.”
“I know. That’s why I want a man who can help me figure out my kinks, but I’m not ready to be known. You must understand my reluctance.”
“Not really. Venom is an elite club with NDAs signed by everyone who walks through the door. Staff and patrons included. It’s a safe space to express your wildest desires, Freya.”
“That’s great, and maybe somewhere down the line, I will take full advantage of it, but for now, I want to remain anonymous.”
Celest shrugs, rolling her eyes as she grabs our coffees, and we head out for a walk around Central Park. The weather is beautiful this time of year, and the city is full of possibilities. A thrill courses through me as we leisurely stroll past other people enjoying their day. He could be anyone. We might have been in the same place at the same time in the past few weeks and been none the wiser.
There’s something so naughty about it, and I love it.
When I’m done with my coffee, I discard the cup in the nearest trashcan and pull my phone from my pocket, typing out a quick message as Celest talks about her plans for the weekend.
Me: Hello, Sir. I was just thinking about you.
I’m not expecting those three little dots to appear so quickly, my heart skipping a beat. I saved his number with a contact name that excites me.
Sir: Is that right? Exactly what were you thinking, little one?
Me: How you could be anyone. That we might have walked past each other on the streets of Manhattan or admired the same flowers in Central Park.
Sir: Does it make you wet thinking that you don’t even know what I look like? That I’ve tasted your arousal as you bucked against my face?
Me: Yes.
My sex responds to his words, the memory of his warm, sexy voice coaxing me to orgasm that night.
Sir: Have you forgotten your manners already?
Me: No, Sir.
Why does it turn me on to have a stranger demand I call him Sir?
Sir: I want you to take your panties off and keep them in your pocket for the rest of the day, little one.
Me: I can’t. I’m not at my apartment. I’m out in public, Sir.
Sir: There would be no fun in it if you were at home. Are you wearing a skirt?
Me: Yes, Sir.
Sir: Then be a good girl and find somewhere to. Take. Them. Off.
I feel my cheeks flush as I read his text, a tingling warmth spreading throughout my body.
“Are you even listening to me?” Celest interjects.
“Sorry, what?”
“Who are you texting? Is it him?”
I’m suddenly shy. “Maybe.”
“You’re blushing. Are you sexting?” She reaches for my phone, but I slide it back in my purse.
“No.”
“Then why do you look guilty as hell right now?”
“He… he asked me to do something for him, but I can’t.”
“Tell me.”
I pull in a ragged breath, so turned on I can barely control the rise and fall of my chest. “He asked me to take off my panties. But I can’t. We’re in a public place. One wrong gust of wind and I’d be showing my sex to all of Manhattan.”
“First of all, you have to stop calling it your sex . You can say pussy. It’s hot. And you can absolutely take them off. Just run behind that tree and do it. It’ll only take a second. The thrill is in the fact that you could get caught. The breeze will feel so good, Freya. Trust me.”
We are not having this conversation right now. “You’ve done it before?”
“Of course. Nothing builds anticipation like a little pre-scene fun.”
“Is that what he’s doing? A scene.”
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t keep him waiting.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. I’ll keep watch.” We find a quiet spot in the trees, adrenaline pumping in my veins as I slip my hands up under my skirt and pull my panties down my legs. I scrunch them in my hands and snap a picture on my phone before slipping them in my purse.
When I emerge sans panties, Celest pins me with a wickedly sexy grin. “Doesn’t that feel better?”
The breeze kisses my skin, a jolt of desire going straight to my core. “I feel…”
“Naughty.”
“Yeah, and I kind of love it.”
She links her arm with mine, but I quickly pull it free when my phone buzzes. I have messages from him .
Sir: Have you done it yet?
Sir: I don’t like waiting, little one. If I message you, I expect a response, especially when I’ve given you an order.
Me: I’m sorry, Sir, I was talking with a friend.
I select the photograph of my panties in my hand and press send.
Sir: Good girl. I see you’re outside. Every time the breeze caresses your cunt, I want you to imagine what I’m going to do to you. Text me when you get home.
Me: Yes, Sir.
“What did he say?”
“That I should imagine what he’s going to do to my… cunt the next time he sees me.”
I blush at the use of the word. I’ve never been good at cussing, and I’ve never referred to my sex as anything vulgar before. Except that it doesn’t feel vulgar when he says it. I like it when he says it. So possessive, raw, and masculine.
“Girl, you are in for a treat. I want all the details after you’ve been to his playroom.”
“I’m nervous.” I would only admit that to Celest .
“Don’t be,” she says as she loops her arm with mine once more. “You’re going to have a night to remember. Just don’t overthink it, Freya. You are in complete control, and he will do anything to please you. It’s a feeling like no other.”
We spend an hour enjoying a stroll through Strawberry Fields and Poet’s Walk before I have to leave.
“As much as I’d love to stay, I need to go into work for a few hours. My boss was riding me about paperwork, and I have a few things to finish up that I didn’t get to last night. It was a busy day.”
“So, you’re working even on your days off? That’s such bullshit!”
“It’s par for the course. I knew it would never be a strict nine-to-five job. Anyway, I’m more concerned that I have to go in there with no underwear on.”
Celest wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Maybe you should show your boss, and he could ride you about something else.”
“And I just threw up a little in my mouth. Thanks for that, Cel. I’ll see you on Sunday.” I give her a quick peck on the cheek and make my way out of the park and through the bustling streets, my body in a permanent state of arousal with every step.
Thankfully, my afternoon goes by quickly as I get my notes written up and check my schedule for the rest of the week. Just as I’m about to leave, my boss appears in the doorway.
“Are you up to date with everything?”
“Yes. Just finished. Is there anything else you need, sir?” He smirks as I hand him the files.
“I need you to stay on top of this in the future. I don’t have time to baby you. This is important work. I expect excellence because I won’t waste time on anyone who cannot meet my standards. Am I wasting my time with you?”
“No, sir. It won’t happen again.”
He eyes me warily. “We’ll see. I have an interesting case tomorrow. Read up on it tonight and present first thing. If I’m satisfied, you can assist.” He drops the file down on the desk.
“Thank you, sir. I will do my due diligence. You won’t be disappointed. ”
He disappears without another word. In fact, this might be the longest conversation we’ve ever had. My boss is a man of few words, and he chooses them carefully for maximum impact. I guess I have some studying to do tonight, but first, I have a man I do want to talk to. One that has been on my mind all afternoon as I sat with my sex naked under my skirt. At times, I found myself opening my legs, feeling dirty even though no one was around to see.
I wanted to touch myself, to alleviate the ache between my thighs, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not in public. My thoughts go back to that night and the two-way mirror, wondering if anyone could see me. He was careful to shield me from view, but when I stood there and watched him pleasure himself, I didn’t care if someone had seen him pleasure me.
When I get home, the first thing I do is pull my phone—and panties—out of my purse and type a message to the man who consumes my thoughts.
Me: I’m home.
Sir: Hello, little one. How was the rest of your day? Were you a good girl and kept your panties off?
Me: Yes, Sir.
Sir: Mmm, just the thought of your pretty little cunt makes me hard. Tell me, how did you feel?
Me: Dirty.
Sir: And did you like being my dirty girl?
Me: I did like it. I thought about you all afternoon.
Should I tell him?
Sir: I was thinking about you too. How wet I knew you would be. I think you enjoyed being naked beneath your skirt.
Me: I did.
I want him to know.
Me: I spread my legs at my desk.
Sir: Spreading your legs like a filthy little sub. Tell me, did you touch yourself?
A thrill courses through me that he thinks I’m dirty.
Me: No, Sir.
Sir: Are you sure you haven’t done any training as a submissive?
Me: None. I have no experience, but I’m hoping you will help me fix that.
Sir: Oh, I will, little one. You must be frustrated.
Me: Yes, Sir.
Sir: I’ll make an exception this once. Usually, I wouldn’t let you touch what’s mine, but you were such a good girl today. You should be rewarded for spreading those beautiful legs of yours. I want you to go and lie on your bed. Hitch up your skirt and tell me when you’ve done it.
My pulse is racing as I walk to the bedroom, my breathing shallow as I crawl onto the bed and pull my skirt up to my waist. I’ve done this so many times before, yet it feels brand new, as if he’s in the room with me.
Me: I’m on the bed.
Sir: Good girl. Now, spread your legs as wide as they’ll go, the way you did for me at the club.
Me: Done.
Sir: Slide your hand down your body until you reach that perfect pussy. Tell me how it feels.
I do as he asks, about ready to detonate when my fingers make contact with my sex.
Me: It’s warm and wet.
Sir: Of course it is. Your cunt is ready for me, even now. Be a good girl and push one finger inside, then put it up to your mouth and taste how fucking sweet you are.
My cheeks blush as I do exactly that, my sex clenching around my finger, making it slick with arousal. I’ve never tasted myself before, and it feels forbidden.
Me: What next?
Sir: How do you taste?
Me: Like honey, but almost metallic on my tongue.
Sir: Your cunt tastes divine, little one. I’m looking forward to feasting on you again. Now, insert two fingers, making sure you coat them well before slipping up to your clit. Soft circles. Lazy. Like you have all the time in the world to enjoy every fucking ounce of pleasure.
Me: I wish it were your hand.
Sir: It’ll be my cock soon enough.
I can’t contain the groan of delight and anticipation. I want to know what it feels like to have him grinding his hips into me, filling me with that beautiful cock. I’ve dreamed of it every night since I watched him jerk off at the club. My phone buzzes at my side, and I grab it one-handed, desperate for more of him.
Sir: That’s it, little one. It’s my hand caressing your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.
Sir: Feel how wet you are for me. Imagine the head of my cock pressing into you. You’ll take every hard inch like a good little girl, won’t you?
Me: Yes, Sir. I’m so close.
Sir: Open the voice recorder on your phone. I want to hear you come for me, little one.
I do as he asks, my hand trembling as I drop my phone on the bed, my entire body undulating as I circle my clit, the bed wet with my cum as I crash over the edge, moaning for him, wishing he was here with me. Touching me. Driving me wild.
“Yes… oh God, yes… Sir… you feel so good, Daddy … yes!”
It takes me a couple of minutes to compose myself, riding out the aftershocks before grabbing my phone. I can’t send this to him, especially not the end. I don’t know why I said that. It’s so wrong.
Sir: I’m waiting. Send it to me now. It’s not a request. I’d hate to have to punish you on your first night as my submissive in training.
My sex pulses at his words. How does he know what I’m thinking? I open the voice memo, listening back to me screaming for him. I crop it before I said it. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Sending him the sound of me coming. I’ve never made myself come this hard before, a sheen of sweat covering my body. Once I’ve sent it, I head for the bathroom and fill the tub, adding a generous amount of bubbles.
He doesn’t answer right away, leaving me embarrassed, wondering if he didn’t enjoy what he heard. Maybe real submissives are better at this. I never question myself in any other aspect of my life, but this—sex—I have trouble being confident.
I’m submerged in the tub, my hand drifting between my legs once more when my phone vibrates, pulling me out of a pleasure haze. I nervously open his message.
Sir: You are not to touch yourself again unless I say so. Understood?
Me: Yes, Sir.
When he doesn’t elaborate, I start to worry.
Me: Was I bad?
Sir: Yes.
My heart drops into my stomach.
Sir: You altered the recording, didn’t you? I know what you sound like when you come, little one. I’ve been playing it on a loop in my head for weeks. You cut it off before you were done.
Me: I’m sorry. I was embarrassed.
Sir: We’ll discuss this further at the club.
Me: Okay.
I sink beneath the surface, hating how vulnerable I am at this moment. I displeased him, and I don’t like the way it feels. My phone vibrates.
Sir: Don’t be embarrassed. You never have to feel that way with me. You’re fucking resplendent when you come. Your pleasure is mine from here on out. Got it?
Me: Yes, Sir.
Sir: Good girl. Now, get some rest. You’re going to need it.
Me: Goodnight.
Sir: Goodnight, little one.
Resplendent. My heart is full as I clean up and get ready for bed. I’m like a kid at Christmas. Two sleeps left until I’m his.
My hands tremble as I tie my mask in place in the elevator. I bought a new mask in a similar lavender hue as I wore to the masquerade ball. Tonight, I’m wearing a black bodycon dress and my favorite heels, hoping they’ll give me the confidence to strut through this club like I belong here.
As the doors ping open to the Venom lobby, my breath catches, anticipation unfurling deep in my core. I’m going to see him tonight.
There’s a gentleman dressed all in black—some kind of security guard, I guess.
“Hello.” I almost squeak.
“Good evening, ma’am.” He doesn’t seem phased by my mask, and it has me wondering if other people conceal their identity here.
“I wonder if you can help me. I’m supposed to go to room two, but I don’t know where that is.”
“Follow me.” He doesn’t crack a smile, and I fall in step behind him, my heart racing when he stops outside a door with a simple gold ‘ 2’ marked on it. Handing me a key card, he turns on his heel. “Have a pleasant evening.”
I stand frozen to the spot, staring down at the matte black card with an embossed ‘ V’ on one side. Taking in a shaky breath, I hold it to the handle, listening to the soft click before pushing my way inside.
He’s not here yet. A pang of disappointment hits, but it allows me to take in my surroundings. There’s a cross on one side of the room with metal cuffs hanging from each spar. A massive bed sits against the opposite wall, big enough for more than two people. I can’t help wondering if he’s had more than one person in here at a time. Will he expect that of me?
There is a large chest of drawers close to the door, and a bouquet of red roses sit atop it with a note. The sumptuous red matches the décor—decadent and luxurious. I make my way toward it, the penmanship elegant.
Little One
You’ll find everything you need on the bed. I left some lingerie for you to wear and instructions on how I want you waiting for me.
I’ll give you some time to get ready.
My gaze snaps to the bed. I didn’t notice the underwear. It’s black, the same color as the bedding. I would describe it as a few scraps of lace—barely enough to cover my breasts and even less to cover my sex. My pussy. Celest told me to stop calling it my ‘sex.’ Apparently, it will give me away as inexperienced.
I place my purse on the nightstand before gripping the hem of my dress and dragging it up my body. I change clothes at the gym in a locker room full of women all the time, and yet stripping for no one in this room has my body vibrating. Dropping my dress to the floor, I slip out of my heels and slide my panties off. I wasn’t wearing a bra, so I find myself completely naked, and my pussy is already throbbing with anticipation.
The lingerie fits perfectly, and I take in the sight of myself in an ornate, full-length gilded mirror in one corner. I look?—
Reading his instructions has my pulse racing, my eyes shooting to a corner of the room with black ropes hanging from the wall. I make my way over to them, running my fingers over the self-tightening ropes. Facing the wall, I slip my hands through them before lowering my knees to the floor and sitting on my heels .
The loops tighten around my wrists, holding my arms above my head with just enough bite to be uncomfortable. My heart is hammering in my chest as I follow the last of his instructions, dropping my head and lowering my gaze to the floor.
Now, I wait .