Chapter 20
I’d gone home to my apartment after being told not to tell anyone anything, except that I was recouping after losing my job and going away for a while, to Europe. Apparently, my friends were expected to believe I had enough savings left to pay for a European holiday?
Charity arrived on my doorstep to check on my mental health.
She squeezed past to get into my apartment.
My half-packed suitcase, the plane ticket, my jittery if flushed excitement, these convinced her something weird was going on.
I denied it all. Denied it categorically.
When I followed her back down the hallway after a coffee and the cupcakes she’d brought with her, and her long lecture about making rash decisions, she paused in the doorway.
Her mouth was pinched. “Are you sure you’re okay, Emme?”
I, the lying, rude friend, said “Yes.”
“Is this that unsafe Dom?”
I told her, no, three times.
Charity was an insistent wretch. And a good friend.
I promised myself I would tell her the truth when I returned, when this failed.
These things always failed at some point.
I imagined Grayson expected it to, as well.
We were kindred souls seeking the darkness, just with different starting points in the maze.
I waved, smiled, then closed the door on Charity, and I felt relief. Then I bit my finger and left marks because, clearly, I was a lying piece of shit. Reconciling betraying her with my avant-garde sex life seemed impossible. Making bad choices was my thing, currently.
All the god-damned way to the airport, I felt guilty.
I was still feeling bad when I boarded the plane.
Frowning, I nestled into my middle seat on the left-hand side of the plane aisle. I eyed the empty window seat and wondered if the stewardess would mind if I shifted over once we were airborne. There had been that article about dead people being identified in crashes by the seats they occupied.
“Excuse me.” A soft request.
Dammit, my seatmate had arrived, after all.
Even softly said, the words finally lit up in recognition. As I looked up, I knew it would be Grayson.
He smiled down at me and managed to inch past, with his front toward me. A rude way to do it if this was a true stranger. His crotch was almost in my face.
“Hello,” I ventured.
Axl seated himself on my right, locked his belt, and ignored me by talking over me at Grayson.
They managed to invent all manner of topics, and butting in was treated as would be any interruption by a strange woman.
They acknowledged me and moved on. I gave up and sat in silence until the plane took off, and we were cruising above the clouds.
Grayson leaned over and pretended to show his phone screen to Axl.
He dropped a plastic bag in my lap at the same time.
The note on the screen: Go to the restroom and stick this plug up your asshole, dear Emme. Then return.
My instinctive, never-to-be-rescinded reaction was a sinking in my stomach, and a fuck-no, not another weak-as-piss dom-like command? I could easily refuse and then…nothing. At most a paddled butt when we landed and were somewhere safe?
I grimaced and took the in-flight magazine from the pocket on the seat in front. Found that also boring and fished out the paperback I’d brought. The Goblin Emperor was far more interesting. They could up their game, or I would leave when we landed. I wasn’t in this to be bored.
Suck on that, boys, I thought, as I turned back the cover. At least the trip to Berlin wouldn’t take long. Being pandered to by two rich dudes was never my fantasy.
After a few minutes, Grayson held his phone before me again, displaying a message. NOW
I wrinkled my nose, took his phone, and typed NO, gave it back, then I dropped the bag on Axl’s lap.
Grayson began typing a new message.
The ensuing strained silence was only local, only in my head. People around us were talking, drinking, chatting up the air hostess, and the muted engine noise was a vague reminder we were in the air carving through the atmosphere inside a metal tube with wings.
Axl tilted his head until he was close enough and whispered, “Bad move.”
He’d shucked his long coat when he sat and now draped it over the armrest between us. He stretched, and when he lowered his arms, I felt him push behind my back and I had to accommodate his presence by arching and wriggling, unless I protested aloud.
Angrily, I glowered as he began to inch his hand into the back of my elastic-waisted skirt then the black tights in the layer beneath that.
If I said anything, he would have to stop. I wasn’t even sure why I was this annoyed at them. I guess it was in my nature to disagree when people fucked up, and something about this had lost me. It wasn’t what I wanted from CNC.
Then his fingers cruised down the cleft of my ass and reached somewhere that should never be penetrated on a plane in flight with others around you. Something must have alerted Grayson as to the state I was in, for he grabbed my left hand and pinned it to the other armrest.
His screen held an alarming message.
Be silent or we will flash you naked and being fucked onto the screens of some of the adults on this flight. You are violating our deal. Bad Emme.
Could they do that? Probably.
I made an O and it wasn’t just because Axl was slowly inserting that finger into my back entrance.
As usual with anal, it both gave me twinges of pain, due to no lube, and it woke me sexually.
Alarms were going off. My inner world where I was being anally violated was clashing harshly with what I could see and hear: the plane and the people oblivious of my plight.
Make yourself come, Emme. Or we will fuck you with something no woman ever wants inside them. Say yes, out loud.
I couldn’t imagine what that might be, which made it worse.
I couldn’t even look at Grayson because that might give away my dual horror and intrigue and rising arousal. Axl chose then to pull part of his coat up to be a pillow on my shoulder, and to lean his head against me again.
“Yes,” I said quietly. Too quietly—I wasn’t sure he’d heard.
A stewardess drifted by. She paused and sent me an inquiring and slightly troubled glance. I sent back a deadpan one.
“Would you like anything off the menu?” That was addressed to all of us. “Your tickets include a beverage and something from the snacks menu.”
“No.” I shook my head and tried not to think of anything sexual or of Axl’s finger inside me.
It wasn’t merely the sensation that did it for me, it was the taboo of the circumstances. My smile grew stiff, wavered.
“No, thank you,” Grayson murmured.
“Nope.” Axl said, without shifting his head off me.
Finally she moved on.
“And…go,” Grayson added. He squeezed down on my hand again, painfully so. I gasped and stared at our two hands. It seemed callous and not part of the agreement.
It twisted strangely, in that illogical part of my animal brain. I liked it. I did not like it.
Oh god, I liked this.
I squeezed my thighs together and felt a familiar warmth glow to life in my clit. Truly, it seemed a glow, a heat, a lit ember.
I started to breathe through my mouth. I may have let out a shuddering exhalation as Axl fucked my ass a few times with that hidden finger.
He raised his head and said softly, “You’re such a fucking slut, Emme.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. True.
My right arm was already shielded by the coat and by Axl.
After the smallest hesitation, I moved it upward to my waist then slowly wormed it beneath—desperately trying not to make it obvious what I was doing.
The people seated across the aisle from Axl were drinking coffee and nibbling on things while watching screens.
I began to apply myself to the business of getting myself off at whatever thousand feet this was without alerting the authorities. I could be banned from the airline for this.
Once a person reaches a certain point in an imminent orgasm, stopping it is almost impossible, yet the smallest things made me drop from that peak.
A passing passenger, a cough, the shift of someone’s head in front.
Finally…finally, I thought I squeaked, I blanked as to my environment, lost awareness of the plane full of people.
Grayson crushed down onto my hand even more.
Axl shoved his digit and lifted me an inch off the seat.
My fingers worked and worked at my clit, and I came.
The blitz of sensation was momentary while I tensed and shuddered. I was left wrung out for a few seconds while I tried to breathe without making horribly loud sounds. I didn’t think anyone had noticed, but I had.
I slowly panted down from that higher plane of existence, hyperaware that my panties were a slick mess in the crotch area. Carefully, I pulled my fingers out of my skirt, hiding the marks from the pressing of the elastic on my wrist.
No one said good girl or anything. Grayson and Axl re-commenced some inane conversation and behaved as if nothing had happened.
When we landed and walked through the busy airport, it felt like a letdown.
A man called Lukas or Leon met us. His name was something German, but I didn’t catch it and he guided us to the parking lot, where a long black limo with a chauffeur waited.
The engine was running, so someone had messaged ahead.
I ran my hand over the smooth reflective paint.
“Impressive. Are you sure you aren’t my sugar daddies?”
The dark-suited bodyguard almost smiled—I saw his lips twitch.
“You know we aren’t. Grayson?” Axl opened the passenger door.
“Everything is organized. Hey, Axl, Lukas wants to see the show tonight, too.”
Suspicious, I eyed them and the bodyguard-cross-translator who looked as if he did bench presses using elephants. I didn’t know German and Grayson and the bodyguard had been talking on the way here.
“The show? I promise it will be good. I thought he was going to be there anyway, unless you want him outside in the car?”
“No. Good! I said he could come inside. Get in, Emme.” Grayson gestured at the door, and I slid in next to Axl. I pulled my skirt straight and was grateful I had several layers between my panties and the seat cover.
Our suitcases were tossed into the trunk, and Grayson joined us in the back, while Lukas sat up front. The limo set off, winding down the levels and headed onto busy roads toward whatever accommodation they had arranged.
Sitting between Axl and Grayson, I felt vulnerable and skittish. Four men were in this car, and I knew none of them well. “Why Germany? Have you something special in mind?”
Axl answered, “We have a club slash restaurant to go to tonight, and my yacht is off the coast at St Helier.”
“But that’s nowhere near here.”
“Berlin has more night life. Flying to where my yacht is moored is easy. You’ll see. Now tell Daddy Grayson why you disobeyed us in the plane.”
“Daddy? I knew it.” I chortled.
Grayson swore a little under his breath before casually running his hand into my hair and twisting his fist into it. He grinned at the shock on my face and shook me, then scrunched his hand into a tighter hold. I gasped and wrapped my hands over his, plucked at them.
“No. Emme. Not unless you wish your bare ass paddled here, now.”
I couldn’t quite turn my head enough to meet Grayson’s eyes. “Let go!”
Rent by abrupt pain and feeling as if my hair might uproot from my scalp, I was torn between dragging my nails through his flesh, to make him stop, and wondering about the bodyguard. He had turned to look. The driver seemed unconcerned.
“Let go?” I tried again. “Please?”
“This is so you know to answer questions when I ask them, and that no one…” He shook my head again. “Who is employed by us will come to your aid if we don’t want them to. Okay?”
“Yesss.” I whimpered and managed not to scratch him.
“Lower your hands and put them on your lap.”
Slowly, teeth clenched, I obeyed.
“Excellent. Why didn’t you obey?”
“On the plane?”
He nodded.
“It was stupid and like a regular Dom would ask.” He wanted a real answer, didn’t he? If not, I may have doomed myself there.
“That bothers you?”
“Yes.”
He let me go, and I hissed and held my scalp for a second.
“I’m sorry?”
Axl laughed. “You’re not, and he doesn’t care. He likes making you do it.”
Truth. An uncomfortable truth.
“We’ll experiment and find out what makes us both tick. Sound okay to you, Emme?” Cautiously, I nodded. “Good.” Grayson indicated Axl. “We’re just indulging ourselves, acting out fantasies same as you are. If it gets too much, say.”
“Okay.”
I was shaken, though. How would they tell if I really wanted out? If it was easy to tell, where was my boundary where enjoyment became too much mindfuck or too much pain?
I let the bumps from the road lull me and watched the pedestrians and the cars roll by as if from another world.
The models of the cars, the signs in another language, and the slight differences in architecture reminded me I was in another country.
Did that matter? What was I doing with my life? Nothing useful.
It wasn’t until we entered an underground garage beneath a hotel that I was jarred from my musing, because Axl spoke.
“We have an…” he glanced at his Rolex “…an hour before dinner starts at the club. We have a dress for you to wear, Emme. Shoes are yours to choose. No underwear.”
The no underwear was the one strangeness, and the one thing that also said normal kink.
That was when I realized how selective was my kink. Notions were all I had been running on previously. Inklings, hints, and possibilities.
When else had I tested my erotic fantasies?
Never. It took so little for me to feel dull and normal, even though for most people into this it would be a thrill to be commanded not to wear underwear, maybe to have a remote-control vibe stuffed into their pussy.
Me, I wanted to have my panties torn from me and stuffed into my mouth while they reamed me over a sofa.
To put it mildly, my kinks were probably always going to be haphazardly fulfilled.