Chapter Nine
Sutton
My admission hangs in the heavy silence between us, my heartbeat counting the seconds that tick by. Why isn’t he saying anything?
Did I… am I doing this wrong?
Am I actually in danger?
After the comprehensive, hour-long video lecture that was sent to Mo this afternoon, followed quickly by the dozen or so documents we had to sign via DocuSign before we could even get the precise address for this event, I had been under the assumption that everything was safe.
I believed that by consenting to this masked man, I could explore the deepest side of myself I’ve never dared to acknowledge—outside of private fantasies fueled by unhinged romance novels, of course.
But now I’m not so sure.
God, why isn’t he saying anything?
I squeeze my eyes shut as shame flushes hot through my chest, creeping up to my cheeks. What have I just done?
Did I just tell a complete stranger that I want him to hurt me?
Something is very wrong with me—
“Look at me,” he says, tightening the grip he has on my chin.
I open my eyes and wait for whatever he’s going to say. I’ve done this wrong. Maybe he’ll chastise me or kick me out. Maybe he’ll even laugh—
“Whatever you’re doing right now, I want you to stop. Do you understand?”
I swallow hard, the motion difficult with the way he has my head tilted back.
“Those thoughts, the way you’re second-guessing yourself, that stops right here, right now.”
I suck in a ragged breath.
“Tell me you understand.”
“I-I understand.”
He nods, shoulders rising and falling on a deep breath.
God, he’s so broad. His skin is taut over thick, full muscles, bare from the waist up to the line of his full leather mask, which covers his face and jaw to his Adam’s apple.
There’s a hint of dark beard stubble exposed, just below the mask, telling me my masked man has dark features, but I already knew that, didn’t I?
His eyes are so dark beneath the shadows cast by his mask that I can barely make them out.
And yet, when he looks at me, I can feel his gaze everywhere.
As alarming as it is to admit this, the moment he followed me in here and locked that door, all I felt was relief. Like I was truly safe for the first time since entering this massive, unfamiliar home.
That’s… wrong, isn’t it? I should have been afraid of him, of being trapped in this small space with a complete stranger—
“You need someone to take control, don’t you?”
I whimper, my entire body feeling lighter in response to the simple suggestion of someone else taking the reins for a bit. I’ve been holding everything together for so long—
“Say it.”
“Yes.” The word comes out louder than I intended. Embarrassment heats my cheeks. “I want you to take control.”
He hums appreciatively and the sound is an odd combination of the hum emanating from his chest and the garbled sound delivered through his mouth. It settles over me all the same, seeping into my chest with the warmth of a fire.
“You want me to take control of your mind.” He runs his fingertips from my hairline, down over my temple. “Your body.” Continuing his descent, he traces a line down the length of my throat, around the curve of my breast. “Your orgasms.”
I gasp and he chuckles.
His fingers move lower, slipping easily over the smooth satin of my dress as he makes his way down over the curve of my belly, settling just above my pelvis.
I swallow hard as I wait for him to continue his descent.
I hold my breath, suddenly desperate for him to keep exploring, touching, taking control.
When he remains still as a statue, just the heat of his palm pressing against my lower belly, a whimper slips past my lips.
“Patience,” he says, the single word like gravel as it travels through the full-face leather mask he wears and whatever machine resides inside it to alter his voice.
Part of me wonders what his voice sounds like, but the other, much larger part, doesn’t care to know.
This feels… somehow… safer, not knowing.
This man could be anyone. I could be anyone. But it doesn’t matter.
Is this what it’s like for people that come to these events? Carefree anonymity?
It’s intoxicating.
His hand slides lower and I sway forward, searching for more.
“So eager,” he says, his gravelly, mechanical voice a near purr. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be patient, though. We have rules.”
I exhale, shoulders deflating.
I’m exploring this side of myself for the first time in thirty-seven years; haven’t I been patient enough?
He caresses my cheek with the pad of his thumb and I lean into the touch.
It’s been so damn long since a man has touched me.
“You must be vetted before I can play with you.” He strokes my jaw with his knuckles and I shiver.
“You’ll need to fill out the application, agree to a background check.
An extensive health check. If you’re approved, there will be membership dues, orientation, which, for us, involves a welcome night at the club. ”
My pout must be obvious because he chuckles. “I’d ask if you are sure this is something you want to be a part of, but I think I already know the answer.”
I laugh, then try to duck my head but he holds my chin steady, keeping my eyes locked on his.
“Speak your mind.”
“I’m not sure, not even a little bit.”
He breathes deeply, those massive shoulders rising and falling as he does, then he gives a curt nod. “What is your body telling you?”
I swallow hard. My pulse races quickly, blood pumping hot through my veins.
My palms are clammy, fingertips tingling.
There’s an ache in my belly, a throbbing in my core.
A relentless pulse between my legs.
My panties are damp and uncomfortable, the slippery fabric of my no-show thong doing absolutely nothing to absorb my arousal.
“Your mind might try to talk you out of this, but your body will always tell you how you really feel. It’s important to listen to those cues, and be mindful of them.
In fact, this is necessary.” His hand still rests against my lower belly and he presses against it, sending a shiver of need down my spine.
“Your body doesn’t know shame or societal norms. Your brain has been programmed to normalize vanilla sex, but your body craves something more.
It knows what it needs even when you don’t. ”
He leans forward and that hand between us finally dips lower. My mouth opens on a quiet gasp, a please waiting at the tip of my tongue—
But he still doesn’t touch me where I ache for him.
I tremble, teetering dangerously close to an edge I don’t quite understand.
How, without his fingers between my legs, without even the slightest brush of his thumb over my clit, am I swollen and aching, buzzing with the need to combust?
I’m crazed and heated, sweating as I wait for whatever he’s going to do next.
This man could tell me to bark like a dog and I’d happily fall to all fours for him.
I don’t know what’s happening to me.
“You’re wet for me, aren’t you? Dripping honey between those sweet thighs. Your cunt aches, pulsing around an emptiness so vast you worry you may never feel full again.”
His crude words, though shocking, only stoke the burning flame inside of me.
“Oh god,” I murmur, because he’s right.
Tears press against the backs of my eyes.
With one hand still gripping my chin, he twists the other so the palm of his hand is pressed against me and his fingers reach down to cup my sex.
My stomach somersaults.
My core flexes around emptiness, just like he said it would.
His fingertips don’t press into me. They don’t invade or explore or do any of the countless things I wish they would do.
He doesn’t offer the relief I’m suddenly so desperate for.
Those fingers remain still, their existence only a tease of what could be.
But then he flexes, the heel of his palm digging into my belly and fingers pressing firmly between my legs. He trails his thumb across my mouth, tugging gently at my bottom lip, and I tremble as a wave of lust tears through me. “Look at me.”
My eyes fly open; I hadn’t even realized they were closed. I reach up to grip his biceps.
“Wh-what is happening to me?” The question sounds silly and trivial as it slips through my lips, broken and jilted because of the way I’m panting. I know exactly what’s happening to me.
It just doesn’t make any sense!
He’s barely even touched me!
“Your body wants to let go, to give in to me. You’re riddled with tension, but your body doesn’t want it anymore.” He dips his thumb into my mouth, resting it atop my tongue. “You’re going to come for me, aren’t you?”
I shiver again and my body sways forward, thighs clenching together.
This is impossible.
There’s no way.
“Your body is heated, desire eclipsing all rational thought. You’ve been turned on since the moment you walked through those doors tonight, but it was here, in this bathroom, with me, when your body finally took control.
Pliable and ready, begging for my touch.
You want my hand between your legs so desperately your mouth waters.
” He presses his thumb against my tongue and drool slides down to my chin.
I moan and he does it again.
It’s uncouth, what I’m doing, drooling for a stranger in the middle of an unfamiliar bathroom in an unfamiliar home, surrounded by dozens of people I don’t even know, but I can’t find it in me to care.
Not when the salty pad of his thumb presses again and again against my tongue, the sensation sending lightning shocks to my core.
“I want you to try something for me.”
I moan around his thumb.
“Suck,” he says, and I do. Eagerly.
He hisses in a breath. “Now, show me what a good girl you can be for your Dom. Show me how obedient you are. Contract those inner walls for me. Imagine my fingers teasing your hot cunt, my thick cock buried deep inside you. Flex around it, milk me.” He presses the heel of his palm harder against my belly while holding my head still with his other hand, his thumb still invading my mouth.
I’m locked in his dark gaze as my body quakes with the first wave of orgasm.
My eyes widen and he slips his thumb from my mouth, settling a firm grip around my throat as he brings his lips to my ear.
“That’s it, darlin’. Be my filthy girl and come for me.
Come for me like it’s my cock inside your tight hole.
Soak me, squeeze me.” His hand tightens around my throat. “Scream for me.”
He presses himself along the length of me, shoving his hard cock against my hip and pushing my belly back toward the wall. The sensation of him everywhere all at once catapults me over the edge.
I cry out, but he quickly moves his hand to cover my mouth and muffle the sounds I’m making for him.
His hips rock forward and he grunts as my body jerks with the force of my orgasm, but I’m held firmly between his large frame and the wall behind me.
He murmurs dirty words against the curve of my ear, but the words are lost in a haze of euphoria so strong I’d float away if he didn’t have me.
But he does have me.
Oh, does he ever.