Chapter 46
The juxtaposition of feeling alone on an island with Mila, even while I can hear the crowd murmuring, cheering, moaning, even fucking as they watch us on stage, is more than I could have ever imagined.
When we discussed my goals for our exhibition, I told her I’d like to be pushed out of my comfort zone.
Playing hockey in front of tens of thousands of people stopped making me nervous years ago, and I wanted to experiment and find out if I’d like being stripped down on stage and tortured in front of a crowd.
Walking out mostly clothed, in the suit and harness I’d been wearing all evening, I felt like a god.
Mila was showing me off. Me! I was the one, out of everyone on earth she could have chosen.
She just wanted me. All night, she’s been refusing invitations left and right to come to other clubs or play with other submissives.
She doesn’t need anyone else, she said. Why go out for hamburger when she has steak at home?
I’ve been on cloud nine since she pissed off a pushy couple with that comment, and now, as strangers get off to us, I feel high.
Everything except my harness was slowly removed while Mila narrated and displayed my best features to the crowd, and the jealousy I could see as she described me as her favorite toy was intoxicating.
“Look at them, solnyshko. They all wish they were you right now, reddened by my flogger and with my plug in their ass. Or they wish they were on their knees before you, tasting this beautiful cock you have.”
Mila emphasizes her teasing words with five fast strokes of my archenemy, her custom cock sleeve, and I have to strain every muscle in my body not to come.
I continue scanning the crowd, following her rule that I have to watch everyone watching me, and shake with effort as a woman being spit roasted between two men catches my eye.
It’s been harder than being blindfolded, by far, to ignore the visual stimulus of a room full of live action porn and fight the urge to come. I’ve gotten much better at controlling myself and knowing my limits since Mila started training me, but fuck, it’s a nightmare tonight.
“You’re being such a good boy for me, Thatcher. Turn around and show everyone how pretty your ass looks when it’s bright red.”
My hands are fastened above my head, but my feet are free to shuffle myself 180 degrees and display my back to the crowd for the first time since I spun while undressing.
The appreciation is palpable as they notice how thoroughly Mila’s reddened me.
She moves to face me, gently running her claws down my abs and making my cock twitch again, wanting nothing more than to sink inside her.
“Do you want to fuck me?” she purrs.
“Always, Ma’am.”
“How do you want to?”
“However you want, Ma’am.”
“No, solnysko. I mean it. I want to know, in your deepest thoughts, with no limits, how do you dream about fucking me?”
Suddenly, I’m more focused than I have been in hours. It doesn’t take any time at all to have an answer for her.
“You on top of me, staring into my eyes while I thrust up into you, and I…I’d touch you. I’d want to tangle my fingers in your hair, run my fingers across every inch of your skin, pull your forehead to mine, kiss you, come inside you—”
I’m cut off by her lips on mine just as she clicks on the vibrator deep inside me, and the surprise throws me over the edge of my release. Coating her corset in my spend, she laughs darkly as she walks around me to face the audience again and guide me to do the same.
“Well, well, well. It looks like my toy enjoyed his prostate stimulation a little too much.” The crowd laughs, and I feel my face flush as my dick starts stirring already. I don’t know why the degradation turns me on, but I’m almost ready to go again.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am.”
“Don’t tell me you’re sorry. Look out there and tell them that you’re sorry for ruining their show. And make eye contact. I want to believe your apology.”
I do as she says, scanning the groups of people still in the throes of their own pleasure, noting the lustful, dazed eyes of submissives like myself and the proud gazes of their masters. “I’m sorry, everyone, for ruining your show.”
Words of encouragement flitter through to the stage as Mila pats me on the ass and finally releases me from my overhead bonds. “That’s a good boy. Now, on your knees. You have a lot of cleaning up to do.”
Hours must have passed by the time I feel myself fully re-engage with reality.
Mila has pampered me in our suite backstage at the club, tending to my sore ass and feeding me fruit and honey while murmuring sweet nothings in my ear.
Our exhibition was more meaningful than I could have ever hoped for, and I feel so proud that I’m hers.
Finally, lying on a couch as limp as a noodle, I register that she’s stopped the rhythmic scratching of my scalp and stood from her place seated behind me.
As she moves to a table at the side of the room, she clears her throat.
“Thatcher…solnyshko, I…”
When she crosses the room back to lower herself onto two knees in front of me, I can see the tears in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
A watery huff is the only answer I receive, but then she reassures me. “I’m fine, my love. Better than fine, actually. I have something I’d like to give you. I’m just finding myself surprisingly nervous.”
Oh. I mean, I know our dynamic is odd, but I still thought I’d propose. I have a kickass idea for our rings that involves a secret poison vial and…
“It isn’t a ring, I promise,” she says, winking and laughing again, less watery now, at how I relax. “But in some ways, it’s just as important.” She hands me the long velvet box, and I open it immediately, marveling at the two collars inside.
“Wow—”
“I love you,” she interrupts. “I love you, Thatcher Prescott, regardless of what course our sexual relationship takes. You could tell me right now that you never want to repeat tonight’s performance, and I’ll happily give up the stage for life.
Submission is a gift you give me freely, never my expectation of you.
It’s something I love about you, but it isn’t why I love you. ”
Well, fuck. Now I’m the one sniffling. My eyes are flickering a mile a minute, back and forth between Mila and her earnest expression and my two new accessories.
One is so luxurious I hesitate to even consider it a collar.
The chain itself is thin and black, with gemstones shining every few links.
It’s something that I could wear anywhere, even on the ice, and nobody would think anything of it.
The collar is unmistakable for anything else—wide, shiny black leather with intricate engraving across the entire band. A solid, thick O-ring rests at the center, and I sense a matching leash or two must be around here somewhere. Before I can say I love them or ask for details, Mila continues.
“Your acceptance of one or both of these doesn’t have any effect on our relationship, like I said. I love you—”
“I love them,” I interrupt, and she looks so relieved I might even escape punishment for my poor manners. “I love you more than anything. And I’d be honored to wear your collar. During scenes, and outside of them.”
There’s more to be said, but for now, the adrenaline of emotion washes over us both, and the predatory gleam I love so much returns to Mila’s eyes.
“In that case, solnyshko, I think you need a reward for being the best boy.”
Imagining myself lying at her feet or being led by my leash, I happily move to kneel, but she stops me.
“Oh no, Thatcher. You told me exactly how you wanted to fuck me, and you’ve earned it, love.”
Oh shit. She can’t really mean…“Hands?” I can’t even form a sentence, I’m so shocked. She slowly undoes her braid, long black waves falling down her back like silk. She pulls my hands to her scalp, and I gasp at how soft her hair is.
“Yes, hands. You can touch me wherever you want. And—”
“And?” There’s more? What did I even wish for? I was so floaty on stage that I barely remember.
“And you better be ready to fill me up, solnyshko. I hope you’ve had enough rest.”