Chapter 5
FIVE
Colt steps closer, his breath warm against my ear. "Before we go any further, we need to establish a safe word."
The vibrator pulses gently inside me, a constant reminder of my vulnerability. "Safe word?" I know what a safe word is. I've heard of it in movies and the kinky stories I read, but something about setting one right now makes this feel real.
"We'll use stoplight colors." His voice is steady, grounding.
"Red means stop everything immediately. You can't take anymore, and we need to take a break or end the night.
Yellow means to slow down. You might need a moment or you're reaching your limit.
" His eyes lock with mine, making sure I'm following. "Green means go. Everything's good."
My throat feels tight with anticipation. "Okay."
"At any point, I might ask for your color. You'll tell me honestly where you're at." The command in his voice leaves no room for negotiation. "Red, yellow, or green. Simple. There's no shame in needing to stop or take a break. Okay?" He eyes me intensely, waiting for a response.
I nod, feeling the weight of this new responsibility.
"Use your words, Tess." His tone sharpens slightly. "I need to hear you say it."
"I understand," I manage, my voice steadier than I expected. "Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go."
"Good." His approval washes over me like warm water. "And if you safe word out, what happens?"
I hesitate. I don't like the idea of having to use a safe word to end the night.
"Nothing bad," he clarifies, his expression softening just slightly. "It doesn't mean failure. It means you know your limits, and I respect them. Always."
Something loosens in my chest at his words. "I understand."
"Color now?" he asks, thumb hovering over the remote.
The vibrator hums steadily, not overwhelming but impossible to ignore. My body feels electric, poised between nervousness and desire.
"Green," I tell him.
His smile is slow and dangerous. "Perfect." He increases the intensity with a casual flick of his thumb, and my knees nearly buckle as the vibration strengthens. "Remember, you're not allowed to come without permission."
"What if I—"
"Then there will be consequences." His eyes darken. "But something tells me you might enjoy those, too."
He takes my hand, leading me toward the crowded center of the room. The toy pulses inside me with each step, and I struggle to keep my expression neutral as we approach a group of people.
"Let's see how well you can hold a conversation," he murmurs, his hand possessive at the small of my back.
Colt guides me to the bar, his hand never leaving my spine. The pressure feels grounding, grounding—a constant reminder that I'm his for the night. Each step sends little jolts through me as the vibrator shifts inside.
"What can I get you?" the bartender asks, looking at Colt first.
"Whiskey, neat," he says, then turns to me with an expectant look. "And for you?"
I open my mouth to order when the vibrator suddenly jumps to a higher setting. A sharp gasp escapes instead of words as pleasure ricochets through me.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" the bartender asks, leaning closer.
"She's having trouble deciding," Colt says smoothly, his thumb circling the remote control in his pocket. "Aren't you, pretty thing?"
I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself. "I'll have a—" The vibrations intensify again, and I grip the edge of the bar, my knuckles turning white. "A vodka s-soda, please."
"With lime?" the bartender asks.
The vibrator pulses harder, and my hips twitch involuntarily. "Yes," I manage through gritted teeth.
Colt leans in, his lips brushing my ear. "Look at you, trying so hard to act normal while your pussy is squeezing my vibe." His words make me clench around the toy. "Everyone here knows exactly what's happening to you right now."
The bartender slides our drinks across the bar and moves away. I reach for my glass with trembling fingers.
"You're doing so well," Colt murmurs, turning the intensity up another notch. "But I wonder how long you can last before you're begging me to let you come."
I take a sip of my drink, desperate for something to focus on besides the building pressure between my legs. The cold liquid does nothing to cool the heat spreading through me.
"Tell me what you're feeling," he commands, his voice low but firm.
"I can't—" I stutter as the vibrations change to a pulsing rhythm that makes my thighs quiver. "Everyone will hear."
"That's not what I asked." His eyes darken, his dominant side coming out to play. "Tell me what you're feeling. Now."
"It's too much," I whisper, my breathing shallow. "I feel like I'm about to—"
"About to what?" He increases the intensity again, and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning. "Say it."
"About to come," I admit, the words barely audible.
His smile is predatory as he watches me struggle. "And did I give you permission?"
"No."
He grins, satisfied with his torment over me. He's silent for a moment while I'm squeezing my thighs together and trying my best not to moan in this crowded room, and then he says something that sends a bolt of heat through me.
"Beg me."
It's humiliating. The idea of begging him to let me come in this public setting. But my pussy is humming, and the pleasure has coiled tight in my belly and I feel like I might explode if he doesn't let me come. So I do as he says. I beg.
"Please," I whisper, my voice cracking. "Please let me come."
"That's not begging," Colt says, his voice a dangerous rumble. "That's asking nicely."
The vibrations increase again, and my knees nearly buckle. I grip the bar harder, my fingernails digging into the polished wood.
"Please, I need it," I gasp, beyond caring who hears. "I can't—I can't hold back anymore."
Colt leans closer, his breath hot against my ear. "Tell me what you are."
I think back to what I wrote in my profile.
That I wanted to be a toy. Used for someone else's pleasure.
That hint of shame coats my skin again, but it brings more heat with it.
I'm so turned on I'm certain I must be dripping down my thighs.
I want to come so badly that the words don't even feel hard to say.
"I'm your toy," I whimper as the vibrations pulse in a rhythm that makes my thighs tremble. "Your pretty toy to use however you want."
"And what do toys do?" His finger traces my spine, feather-light.
"They—they please their owners," I stammer, desperation making me bold. "Please let me come for you. I'll do anything, I swear. I need it so badly I can't think straight."
His eyes darken with satisfaction. "Look at you, begging to come in a room full of strangers. Such a desperate little slut."
The degrading words push me closer to the edge.
"Yes," I breathe. "I am. I'm desperate. Please, Colt. Please."
Just as the pressure builds to an unbearable peak, just as I'm teetering on the edge of release, the vibrations stop completely.
The sudden absence is almost as shocking as their presence.
My knees wobble and I think I might fall to the ground, but Colt catches me with an arm around my waist, holding me up.
"Not yet," He says, taking a casual sip of his whiskey while I try to remember how to breathe. "You don't get to come until I decide you've earned it."
I press my thighs together, desperate for friction, for relief.
"Don't," he warns, noticing the movement. "Your pleasure belongs to me tonight. Every. Last. Drop."
The promise in his words, the certainty that this is only the beginning, sends a fresh wave of arousal through me.
"Now drink your cocktail," he says, as if we're having a perfectly normal conversation. "We have a long night ahead of us."
I take a shaky sip of my drink, trying to ignore the pulsing emptiness between my legs where the vibrations had been. My body feels like a live wire—charged, desperate, and completely at Colt's mercy.
"I can't believe I just did that," I whisper, glancing around to see if anyone noticed my near-meltdown. The club continues around us, seemingly oblivious to my private humiliation.
"Did what?" Colt's voice is casual, but his eyes are anything but. "Begged to come in public? Or admitted what you really are?"
Heat floods my face. "Both."
He takes another sip of his whiskey, watching me over the rim of his glass. "That wasn't even close to your limit, Tess."
"How would you know?" I challenge, though my voice lacks conviction.
"Because you're still talking back." His smile is slow and dangerous. "When I find your real limit, you won't be able to form sentences."
The promise in his words sends a shiver through me. I grip my glass tighter, trying to ground myself.
"Finish your drink," he commands softly. "Then I want to show you something."