Chapter 31
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M y stool swivels back and forth beneath me as the curtains to the voyeur room slide open and Nia comes into view with her scene partner through the room’s two-way mirrors. I rest my elbows on the bar behind me while I stare inside, watching as the guy takes her mouth with his.
My stomach twists itself into painful knots when her hands cup his face and she returns the kiss, but I don’t buy it. Her body language is telling a completely different story from her actions. She’s unsure, and he should be questioning that.
I have a little faith in the guy when she reaches for his pants and he grabs onto her wrist, stopping her from taking them off.
For just a second, I have faith.
Until he pushes up her dress to reveal her lacy blue thong. The same thong that she’d teased me with in my office weeks ago. She wore that for me tonight.
“Are you really gonna sit here and watch this guy fuck her?” Isla taunts as she settles onto the stool next to mine.
My jaw tenses, my entire body along with it. “I gave her a choice,” I answer. “She went with him willingly. It’s none of my business.”
“Right,” she says, “so why does it look like that vein in your neck is about to burst?”
I swallow hard as Nia’s scene partner hoists her onto the bed behind her.
Isla’s teasing voice disappears, the room around me fades from my vision, and in my mind, all conversation surrounding me comes to a halt as Nia’s thong is pulled down her legs and tossed onto the floor next to her, leaving her bare cunt on full display for all of us to see.
My eyes lock onto her like a missile locking onto its target as she spreads her legs for him and he inches closer to her.
I hardly have a second to have a rational thought before I haul off of my stool, headed down the hallway and toward the door of the room with my heart beating wildly in my chest.
I’m not aware of any part of my body when I force my way into the room. I have no knowledge of my hands grabbing onto the guy’s shoulders and throwing him out of the room with an angry grunt.
For a moment, I think I might kill him.
“She’s mine . Get the fuck away from her,” I demand just before slamming the door shut again.
“Brody!”
“And you ,” I growl as I round on Nia.
I’m already pulling off my tie and suit jacket by the time I approach the bed, and I follow with my shirt, keeping my eyes locked onto her the entire time.
Her eyes rake over my body, her brow creasing for just half a breath before she brings her focus back to my face.
“You’re acting like a—” She doesn’t have time to finish her thought before I’m on top of her, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand as I grab her by the jaw with the other. “ Brody .”
“Were you really about to let him fuck you?” I demand.
“Why does it matter to you?” She barks. “You said it yourself; you’re not my Dom. I’m not your sub.”
“You’re more than that, and you know it,” I grit, my face mere inches from hers.
I press my hips against hers, letting her feel the hard length of my cock through my slacks, and she whines at the contact. My fingers squeeze at the back of her jaw to force her lips to part, and I stare at her.
I stare at the pulse pounding in her neck. I stare at the way that her chest rises and falls with heavy and uneven breaths. I stare into the eyes that are locked onto mine and the pupils that expand and constrict as she awaits my next move.
I can’t stop this anymore; and I don’t fucking want to.
Using my thumb, I pull on her chin to force her mouth open. “You don’t fuck other men,” I tell her. “You don’t touch other men. You don’t let them touch you. I should fuck this pretty mouth until you choke for letting him kiss you,” I growl.
Pulling my face away from hers, I aim for her waiting mouth and spit. Using my palm to hold her mouth closed and force her to swallow, my mouth moves to her ear. “You’re mine , sweet girl, no one else’s. And you fucking call me Sir .”
She offers a nod as her legs hook over my hips, her eyes glued to mine with an intensity that I didn’t expect. I curse under my breath as my hand moves from her jaw to my slacks, quickly working to pull open my belt.
“What did you say to him?” I demand.
“I told him that you were watching,” she pants. “I told him to get me punished.”
“Just what kind of punishment do you think you deserve?” I ask her.
Her head turns toward the two-way mirrors that face out to the main hall, and a feline grin spreads across her face. I’m not sure if she likes the way that she looks pinned beneath me or if she’s thrilled at the idea of being watched…maybe it’s a little of both.
My hand grips her jaw harshly and I force her to look to me again. “I asked you a question.”
“Spanking,” she tells me with a whine. “Or flogging. Paddling…I deserve it, Sir.”
I tighten my grip on her, just enough that she winces, and I lean in until my nose is pressing against hers.
“What are you?” I demand.
“A whore,” she breathes.
“Whose whore are you?”
“I’m yours, Sir,” she tells me. Her eyes pin themselves to mine as her breathing grows heavier, and my cock strains against my zipper. “I’m your filthy, disgusting whore.”
I dive into her mouth with my own, and I kiss her the way that I’ve wanted to for months . Slow and deep, only pulling away to bite her lower lip before sliding my tongue against hers once again. A soft whine slips out of her as her body squirms beneath mine.
Pushing myself off of her, I point to the edge of the mattress. “Bend over,” I order.
I move to the small wardrobe at the far end of the room and gather supplies while Nia takes position, returning with the handle of a leather paddle spinning around my index finger.
Tossing a bottle of lubricant onto the bed, just in her eye line, I ask her, “Do you want them to watch you get paddled and fucked like a disobedient little whore?”
“Yes, Sir,” she pants.
“Good.” Pulling my belt through its loops, I reach for her hands and pull them in front of her, securing them together at the wrist with the smooth leather. I pull back the paddle and swing it hard at her ass, landing with a painful smack against her bare skin. “That’s one,” I tell her. “How many times did his lips touch yours? I counted ten.”
“It was one kiss,” she whines.
“Not what I asked.” The paddle flies again, making harsh contact with her skin as she cries out. “That’s two. Give me a color.”
“Green,” she answers as her hips writhe, her thighs rubbing against one another. “Sir, please…”
I bend down, brushing her hair away from her face and keeping my voice low and gentle. “You can’t get out of your punishment, sweet girl,” I tell her with a smile and a soft kiss to her forehead. “Count for me.”
She obediently counts through the next eight impacts of the paddle, even when her voice shakes, and by the time she’s finished counting, finished taking her punishment, I’ve hoisted her onto the bed with my lap pressed against her ass as tender welts rise to the surface of her skin.
My hands massage at the cushion of her reddened flesh while my cock begs for relief; but it can wait until I’m ready.
I let one hand wander, slipping between her lips as I plunge two fingers inside of her, groaning at how fucking good she feels wrapped around them. Nia lets out a moan, rolling her hips as I pump my fingers.
“I’m going to fuck this cunt bare,” I tell her with my free hand working to slide my slacks down my legs, “and I’m going to pump it so full that you’ll have my cum dripping down your thighs for the rest of the night.”
“I’d like that, Sir,” she whines with her pussy flexing around my finger.
As I pick up the bottle of lubricant and squeeze a generous amount of it onto my cock, I tell her, “When I’m finished with you, we’re going to cut that little dress short so everyone can see who you belong to.”
A part of me wants to tell her that I haven’t had sex with anyone since my wife. That she’s had me so goddamn worked up over the past few months that I don’t know how long I’ll last. That I’ve lost sleep over her.
That she all but terrifies me.
She gasps as I push inside of her, and I show her my affections the best way that I know how: I take hold of her hip and fuck her hard and deep, driving the most incredible moans from her lips.
With my free hand, I grip the hair at the crown of her head and yank backward, forcing her head up as her eyes roll backward in her head. Leaning close to her face, I growl, “Show them how much you fucking like it. Let them see how greedy you are for my cock.”
I spit onto her cheek before moving my eyes to the two-way mirror in front of us, watching myself pound into her and the flush creeping across her cheeks. Everything else fades away but her face and the sounds of her crying out for me .
Maybe for the first time in months, she isn’t thinking about her husband or her divorce or everything that she stands to lose. She’s focused on me .
For the first time in years, I’m not thinking about my wife or my family or the things that I’ve already lost and still stand to lose. I’m focused on her .
“Say my name,” I order her.
“Sir,” she whines, “you’re—”
“My name .”
Too many moments pass with nothing but guttural moans passing between us. Long enough that I worry I’ve switched things up on her too much or that I’ve made her think I’m trying to trick into her another punishment, but that isn’t it at all.
I’m about to check in with her when I feel her tighten, squeezing around my cock, and she lets out a low, desperate moan.
Of my name.
Grabbing her by the back of the head once more, I lean forward to dive into her mouth with a fervent kiss, swallowing the taste of my name on her tongue while she comes.
I don’t even notice my other hand moving to free her from her restraint until her hand cups my face, her thumb stroking through my beard. Grazing my teeth against her lower lip just hard enough to make her whine, I pull away from her.
My saliva still rests on her cheek, her hair is in knots, mascara is smeared beneath her eyes, her lipstick is smudged…and she’s absolutely perfect.
Straightening, I lift a foot onto the mattress next to her and hold onto her hips while I pound into her, letting my head fall backward. As my body tightens, I hold her in place, not giving her the chance to move until I’ve finished spilling into her.
With a hand wrapped around my cock, I swipe the head of it through my cum spilling out of her and push it back inside with a groan. “You keep this inside so everyone here knows whose whore you are, do you understand me?”
“Yes, Sir,” she breathes.
Leaning forward to press a kiss to her temple as I withdraw from her, I tell her, “That’s my sweet girl.”
After quickly throwing on my boxer briefs, I move to the mirrored wall to pull the internal curtains, giving us some privacy before moving to the mini fridge and the cabinet next to it.
“How do you feel?” I ask as I rest a chocolate bar and one of the bottles of cold water next to Nia on the bed, using another to wet a cloth.
Her head rests on her folded arms with her eyes resting shut and a small smile on her lips. “Exhausted,” she answers as I gently wipe her face with the cloth, “but the good kind of exhaustion – like running a code for an hour and finally getting a rhythm back.”
Moving the cloth to her back, I wipe her skin, working my way down to the cushion of her ass before I reach for a bottle of lotion and squeeze a dollop onto my hand. I work it between my palms to warm it before pressing my hands to her body, massaging it into her reddened skin and working it up through each of her sore muscles.
“It’s important that you tell me if you need some time alone or if you’d rather—”
“I want you to stay,” she tells me with a shake of her head.
“Okay,” I nod.
As I finish with the lotion, I pour more of the cold water onto the cloth I’d used earlier, this time draping it over her ass before I climb onto the bed next to her. She inches her body closer to my own until her head rests on my chest, her fingertips trailing across my skin.
“Drink your water and eat your chocolate,” I tell her with a nudge as I work my fingers through her tangled hair to carefully remove some of the knots that have formed in it.
She does as she’s told with a smile, peeling open her chocolate bar and letting out a satisfied hum as she rests the first piece of it in her mouth.
A silence which doesn’t beg to be filled sits between us while she sips on her water and her body begins to slacken as her muscles relax into mine.
I brace my free arm behind my head and let my eyes drift closed in the comfort of our shared quiet, until her arm drapes over my side and her thumb slowly rubs against my skin.
“It’s not just the hurting people for you, is it?” She asks quietly. “When you say ‘sadist,’ it paints a certain picture, but that picture isn’t the reality, is it?”
“No,” I say with a shake of my head. “The pain is only a piece of a much bigger picture.”
“You make me feel safe,” she tells me, and my chest tightens. “When you ask me if I want something to happen, or you stop to check in, it makes me feel cared for.”
I’ve had my share of submissives; longterm, committed, just for a quick pickup, and I don’t think any of them – even April – have said those words to me.
‘You make me feel safe.’
‘It makes me feel cared for.’
There isn’t a single moment that comes to mind, no matter how deep I dig, no matter how far back I go, that I can remember ever hearing that. I’m sure that it was conveyed in other ways, but to hear the words out loud…
My arm tightens around her, and I let my eyes fall closed again, relaxing against the mattress and the weight of Nia’s body as her hand wanders across the skin of my chest, moving down toward my stomach.
Her fingers trace over each of the small scars dotting my abdomen and the discolored skin that surrounds each of them, and I tense.
I hate the things. I hate people looking at them. I absolutely despise attention being drawn to them. I’ve thought about having them lasered on more than one occasion, but that would mean having even more people looking at them up close – and I don’t want that.
“Surgery?” I nod. “Can I ask what?”
I let out a chuckle. I was just inside of her, paddling and spitting on her – and she’s worried about invading my privacy.
“The second time I got sick, we thought that it started in my kidney, so we removed it,” I tell her.
“You had a port, too,” she says as she gently circles the faded scar at the upper right of my chest.
My eyes crack open to watch as her fingers trace each one of them again, this time connecting them to one another with some invisible line that only she can see.
“They look like the big dipper,” she comments quietly to herself. Catching herself, she shakes her head and says, “I don’t like my scar either…but life came from them, so we have to be grateful to have them, don’t we?”
“That’s what I’ve heard,” I chuff.
It feels foreign to settle into such a comfortable space with another woman; but the way that her body melts against mine as I turn out the bedside light and pull her chest to mine, letting her head rest on my bent elbow, feels so incredibly natural.
I would say that I could see myself getting lost in this woman, but I’ve been lost in her for months already, haven’t I?