Chapter 4
“I know what to do while we wait.”
The world spun as Cole turned her away from the dining room in what almost felt like a dance move, his arm around her waist.
They were headed back to the cushion, which sat forlorn, but he spun her again. She had a moment to absorb what was before her—a suited Dom sitting on a love seat-sized outdoor couch, a mostly naked woman beside him. The Dom raised a brow, looking first at Cole then at her before nodding.
No words were exchanged between the Doms as Cole gripped the back of Mara’s neck and forced her down over the other man’s lap.
Mara sucked in a breath, her forearms braced on the other man’s thighs. She was staring at his crotch, her muscles beginning to twitch and shiver in anticipation. Was Cole going to order her to suck his cock too?
Did she want that?
No. That was the wrong question.
Did Cole want it. Did he want to see her bend to his will, his domination, by making her take another man’s cock in her mouth.
She wanted him to want to use her, in any and every way.
Cole released her neck. “Hold this for me.”
The other Dom’s hand gripped the back of her neck, giving her one little squeeze. Then he wrapped her hair around his palm, forcing her head to tilt before once more gripping the back of her neck the way Cole had. Now, she was staring at one of the buttons of this stranger’s dress shirt.
Cole kicked her legs apart, flipped her skirt up to her waist, and thrust two fingers into her pussy.
Pleasure swamped her, sudden and deep. Like being pulled under and out by the rip current.
His fingers were thick and hard inside her, the wet sounds of them squelching in and out of her sex vying in volume with the guttural moan she let out.
Her pussy and abdominal muscles clenched, her body close, so close, to that second orgasm. The face fucking had been brutal and debasing, and she needed it. Needed to be treated like his sex toy. Needed to be his sex toy. His to use and play with.
Her thoughts slipped deeper into that dangerous place where everything seemed like a good idea. Where she almost hoped he’d order her to open her mouth and let the stranger who held her down fuck her throat the way Cole just had.
“Will your girl play with her tits?”
“Pinch and pull her nipples, then slap them,” the stranger said.
Soft, cool fingers reached under her, ghosting over the tops of her tits and then gently reaching into the corset and easing her breasts out so they dangled bare. Another few soft strokes, and then her right nipple was caught in a vicious pinch.
Mara inhaled hard, pain dancing along her nerves down to her pussy, mingling with the pleasure of being fucked.
Cole’s hand twisted, and on the next thrust, his thumb tapped her clit.
Pussy, clit, nipples. All three were being stimulated, only her nipples getting enough sensation. The other sub twisted her right nipple, rolling it hard between her fingers, before releasing to reach farther under her for the other breast.
This time, Mara screamed as her nipple was pinched, the too-gentle touches to her clit amping up her sensitivity.
Her breasts were getting the treatment she wanted, but her pussy needed more—his cock, not fingers. The touches to her clit were maddeningly soft. Almost hesitant.
Not hesitant. Teasing.
Her tits were slapped—not hard, there wasn’t the space for that, but the small upward strikes were aimed at her nipples, and when she whimpered, Cole grunted in what felt like approval.
Her reward was his thumb on her clit, not teasing, not anymore. He circled her clit, the leather smooth and slick as his thumb went around, and around, and around.
The orgasm was there. Right there. Waiting. Ready.
Cole’s hand shifted, thumb still circling her clit as he started to work a third finger into her.
The pressure in her pussy, the slaps to her nipples, but most of all, the thumb on her clit, brought her to orgasm.
She screamed, head tipping down which made the other Dom tighten his hold, the grip on her neck and pulling at her hair adding another layer of intensity.
Her stomach muscles quaked, her pussy clenched…
And he didn’t stop.
Her legs started to shake, the muscles trembling and clenching as he continued to play with her clit as the orgasm crested, then faded.
She sobbed, overwhelmed. She was so sensitive.
She needed him to stop. Needed him to keep going.
“Looks like a table opened up.”
She barely heard Cole’s words, her attention instead on his fingers slowly withdrawing from her cunt.
The other sub gently tucked her tits with their abused nipples back into the corset.
The man holding her didn’t let go until Cole’s hand touched the back of her head, one grip replaced by another.
As if they wouldn’t risk her being out of the control of a Dom.
Cole brought her to standing, and Mara felt drunk and woozy from the pleasure, her legs still trembling.
“Ready to eat?” Cole asked casually.
Mara blinked, glancing at the couple on the couch. The other sub stared at her longingly.
Another sub was jealous of her. Wanted to be where Mara was. That never happened. Or rather, it happened all the time with the roles reversed. Mara wishing she were in the other sub’s position.
Cole’s words finally penetrated, and as they started walking, his hand sliding from her neck to the small of her back, Mara realized what had just happened.
“Was all that because we’re waiting for a table?”
“Yep.” He smirked down at her. “Just a little something to pass the time.”
If fucking against the wall and a blowjob was his idea of hello, and fucking with audience participation was a waiting activity, what would a real scene be?
Mara took her last bite of cold roasted veggies, chewed, and finally started, an hour and a half after she’d left the Subs’ Garden, presenting her talking points. “Unrestrained is dangerous.”
Cole looked up from his steak, gaze hard and level. “Everything about what we do here is dangerous. I don’t practice under SSC. It’s RACK.”
SSC was the acronym for Safe, Sane, Consensual—one of the models of BDSM play. RACK was Risk Aware Consensual Kink. The defining difference was that RACK acknowledged the risk involved, and that “sane” was a relative term.
“An unrestrained BDSM scene could leave one or both of us seriously hurt. And I don’t just mean physically.
” Rules and customs were central to BDSM play for the safety of all players, and while she’d found “unrestrained” alluring last night.
In the cold light of day, it was untenable, though still alluring.
Cole instantly nodded. “You’re not wrong, Brown Eyes.”
She wondered if she should tell him how much she liked the pet name. Or maybe she shouldn’t, because then he’d stop using it.
His ready agreement that unrestrained could be dangerous undermined several of her talking points, so she paused to reassess.
“Maybe you could explain what you meant by unrestrained.”
“What I meant?” He leaned back, one elbow hooked on the chair, his torso twisted slightly. “I meant that sometimes prepping for a scene feels like prepping for a job.”
“You mean the planning and set up.”
He tapped his fist on the table in what was apparently agreement.
“So it wasn’t that you wanted to use me like I wasn’t a person?”
He sat up. “Excuse me.” Again, the words were a question while the tone a statement.
“I’ve watched and read porn created by men, and a very common element is treating the woman like she’s not a real person.
She’s a humanlike toy that can be used and abused without any thought to her mental well-being.
And the physical element is all about hurting her as much as possible.
Then pretending she orgasmed from the abuse. ”
He started shaking his head halfway through her statement. “That’s not what I meant by unrestrained.”
She nodded jerkily. “Good. Because I can’t…I won’t participate in that.”
“Wait, were you thinking I was going to actually torture you?”
“Treat me without restraint?” She raised both brows. “Yes, I was. Because that’s what we talked about last night.”
“I’m not a serial killer, for fuck’s sake.”
“I don’t know that,” she pointed out reasonably.
Cole braced his arms on the table and leaned toward her in that way that made her think of a hunting cat perched on a rock ledge eyeing prey down below. “First of all, I need you to know that I’m a sadist in a fun way, not a serial killer way.”
“An objectively insane statement, but I understand.”
He shook his head. “You’ve got a mouth on you, Brown Eyes.” Before she could counter that statement, he went on. “You thought the restraints and rules of BDSM were all that stopped me from being the Toy-Box killer, and you showed up anyway.” He relaxed back, lips twitching in an almost smile.
“I figured we’d talk about it first. Clarify.”
“Instead, I finger-fucked you against the wall and then fucked that pretty mouth. Then I let other people hold you down and play with you while I finger-fucked you again.” He studied her. “That’s unrestrained.”
“If I’d known that’s what you meant by unrestrained, I wouldn’t have worried so much.”
“You enjoyed it?” This time, it was real question.
“Um, yes. A lot. You, uh, couldn’t tell?” She’d hadn’t announced she was about to come. She also hadn’t asked permission to orgasm, and instead assumed he’d felt it, known from her body language.
“You can enjoy something without coming, and come from something you didn’t really enjoy.”
“That’s true.” She looked at her mostly empty plate. Thanks to both nervous and excited anticipation, she hadn’t eaten anything but toast today. “I’m going to get some more dinner. Do you want anything?”
He studied her like he was going to call her out for using food as an excuse to walk away, but in the end said, “More horseradish, please.”
“Okay.”