Chapter Seven

 

Ariel scanned the dungeon floor, taking in the scenes in front of her. She’d dressed in the locker room, helping Rebecca into her corset and talking about how they wanted the evening to go. That was usually her transition time. Putting on fet wear helped her move into her submissive persona. Not tonight. Tonight she couldn’t seem to shut her brain off. The problems they were facing churned in her head.

Tucker had decided to stay upstairs. Dante was keeping him company. When she’d left the two had been murdering each other in some video game. Should she have stayed with him? He’d seemed perfectly happy, but she knew Tucker’s emotions ran deep.

Sasha had gone into a privacy room with the tall, beautiful Domme Peter had selected for him. Rebecca and Owen were happily wandering the dungeon.

Everyone seemed to be taken care of, at least for the night. Hopefully they would all find some peace. She glanced to her right and suddenly wasn’t thinking about her problems. A woman was bound face-out to a St. Andrew’s Cross. She was topless but far from naked. A miniskirt of what looked to be hot-pink faux fur covered her hips. A long pink and white-striped tail hung between her legs. She was fairly confident the tail was held in place by a plug in the sub’s ass. The woman’s hands were encased in gloves that looked like large cat paws, done in the same pink faux fur as the miniskirt, accented with white, and what appeared to be real metal claws. The cuffs holding her to the St. Andrew’s Cross wrapped around her wrists just below the point where the gloves stopped. On her feet she wore wedge boots covered in stripes of pink and white fur.

The most bemusing part of all of it was the large costume cat head that completely hid the woman’s face, head, and neck. Like any good therapist who lived and worked in a sex club, Ariel had a vast knowledge of most kinks. Germany was the epicenter of furry culture. The Garden didn’t have any “furries,” as members of the community called themselves, in the club. While the woman wore a partial fur suit, her Dom wore a full suit that turned him into a towering gray wolf. He’d made some concessions in his attire—he’d taken off one paw glove, probably because he couldn’t hold that crop with it on.

The crop struck the underside of the woman’s left breast. She yowled, a distinctly feline sound, then struggled against the restraints, hissing. The wolf reached out with his still-gloved hand and petted her from shoulder to waist. The cat calmed and relaxed back against the cross.

She studied the couple, fascinated by the intimacy playing out in front of her. There was an artistry to any BDSM scene—even the furry ones. Maybe especially those. It took bravery and a deep sense of self to allow one’s fantasies to be played out in public. This couple obviously had an enormous amount of trust between them. It would be challenging for the Dom to read the submissive’s reaction when they weren’t speaking, and he couldn’t see her face or hands. There were plenty of BDSM masks or hoods that could be used in scenes, but those were usually formfitting to the sub’s head, and still offered the top some opportunity to read facial expressions. A good Dom or Domme could also read body language, but again, the hands were a key part of that—fists versus relaxed hands, fidgeting fingers versus clinging to ropes or restraints.

Perhaps The Garden needed to invite a Furry Dom to teach an advanced class on reading a sub’s body language. She would enjoy that. Even experienced couples might find themselves at a loss if they were prevented from communicating via words, expression, or hand signals. Or perhaps this was more about creating a unique language that both parties understood, even if that language didn’t use words. Communication was key to BDSM play and—

A hand wrapped around her waist from behind. Pure instinct moved her. She stepped back, using her shoulders to shove the person who’d touched her without permission. She brought her foot up and smashed it down, her heel to his toes. She twisted slightly and brought her elbow up and back, catching him in the solar plexus. He doubled over, and as she completed her turn to face him, she raised her arms, right hand wrapped over her left fist, prepared to smash the back of his head with her elbow.

A familiar brown-haired man was doubled over, hands on his knees. Robert.

She’d attacked Robert.

She blinked and dropped her arms. Not only had she attacked him, she’d nearly incapacitated him. A friendly, approachable psychologist shouldn’t be able to take down a trained super-solider in hand to hand, especially when she was barefoot and wearing nothing but a corset and G string.

“What the fuck?” Robert wheezed.

She dropped to her knees beside him. “Rob, I’m sorry.”

He sucked in air, then raised his bowed head enough to look at her. With her on her knees and him bent over, their faces were close together. Close enough that she could kiss him.

“How did you…” He frowned at her, and Ariel’s stomach knotted.

“Are you alright?” She’d acted purely on muscle memory. She hadn’t been thinking at all. She was on edge after the meeting with Kim and being forced to lie to Rob. “I’m sorry. I was watching a scene and you startled me.”

A brow rose above his eyes. “I…startled…you, and you nearly put me on my ass?”

There was another way to distract him. She was already on her knees, so she spread her legs, resting her hands palm up on her thighs. “I apologize, Sir.”

“Is there a problem here?” Peter was in a set of dark brown leathers, showing off his lean and muscled frame and looking far from the mild-mannered tour guide he was during the daylight hours.

Everyone was watching them. She’d interrupted the scenes. Damn it.

“No, Sir. I was distracted when my Dom touched me, and I reacted.” She forced out a chuckle. “I was trained in self-defense by some of the best in the business, and I think I hurt him.”

Robert got to his feet.

Peter winced. “Ah, I see. Master Robert, do you need something? Ice?”

“No ice.” He rubbed his stomach, then looked down at her. “Remind me to compliment whoever handled your self-defense training.”

She straightened her back and lowered her gaze to Robert’s knees. “I will, Sir. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry for startling you, sweetheart.” Robert held out a hand. “And I’m sorry for disrupting the scenes, Master Peter. We’re a new couple and learning all sorts of things about each other. Come with me. I have our scene ready. I think my gorgeous sub here could use some stress relief. I know I could.”

She placed her hand in his. Robert gripped her fingers and raised her to her feet. Awareness and desire, woken by that single touch, pushed away all of her previous worries. In his boots and leathers, Robert towered over her, broad and strong. She wanted to feel that strength, wanted him to use that big body to make her submit.

And maybe, deep down, she wanted him to punish her for lying to him. Wanted him to offer her absolution through pain.

“How about I greet you properly this time.” Robert slid one hand around the back of her neck, pulling her to his chest, then holding her still as he bent his head and kissed her.

Her whole body went soft, molding against his. She wished she wasn’t wearing the corset. Wished he wasn’t wearing the leather vest.

He deepened the kiss, nipping her lower lip then thrusting his tongue into her mouth. This was what she needed. She needed this man dominating her in the dungeon and being her partner in the outer world. She needed him by her side. She’d never really believed in the mystical, magical “one,” but this had to be what it felt like to find a missing piece of her soul.

Robert broke the kiss, still holding her by the back of the neck, his thumb below her ear. “I’m going to push us tonight.”

A thrill went through her at the thought of seeing where he would want to go. “Yes, Sir. I want that. I…I need it.”

Because I’m lying to you.

“I want to do things to you…” The words seemed to rip from him. “Things that are too hard. Too rough.”

Robert taking her roughly. Robert letting go and unleashing on her. The thought of it made her ache with need. “I can take it.”

“No, you’re soft.” His thumb stroked the skin of her neck below her ear. “You deserve to be worshiped.”

“Worship doesn’t have to be soft. This is fantasy and I need it rough tonight.” Their bodies were still pressed together, and she felt his cock harden in his leathers. She rubbed her hips against him. “I want you to take me. Dominate me. Fuck me. Help me find the pleasure that can only come when I give up control. When I trust you with my body—” And my soul.

He was waiting for her to finish, but she couldn’t say the last part out loud. When they got back to London, she was going to have a long talk with Damon. She needed to tell Rob everything, the whole story of her life so this lie wasn’t between them.

She didn’t want to talk any more tonight. Her blood was humming, her skin tingling in anticipation of his touch, and she didn’t want to wait a second longer.

Ariel slowly turned her head to the side, his hand sliding against her skin. She parted her lips and took the thumb that had been stroking her neck into the wet warmth of her mouth. She sucked on it the way she’d sucked at his tongue, the way she wanted to suck his cock.

With his thumb still in her mouth she raised her gaze to meet his. His eyes were hazel and bright, focused on her with an intensity that made her want to push him further. She nipped him, hard enough that his nostrils flared. Then she drew back slowly, her lips sealed in a ring around his thumb as it slowly emerged from her mouth.

“You’re deliberately being a brat.”

She tilted her head back, allowing his thumb to slide down her chin, then along the underside of her jaw, leaving a damp trail.

“Please.” She didn’t want to talk. It was time to play, time to find the Ariel she could only be here and with him.

He swooped down, planting a shoulder against her waist then straightening up. Her world upended and she braced her hands on his very nice, leather-covered ass as he strode across the dungeon floor. It was hard to compete with the furry scene, but she felt eyes on her as they went past, and that only added to her ever-heightening arousal.

The world spun, and then she was standing, Robert’s hands on her waist keeping her steady until she found her balance. They were toward the back of the club, near a wall.

They weren’t near any of the main pieces of equipment, but his kit was on the floor not far away.

Robert took a step back, putting space between them but not distance. He’d only stepped back so he could watch her. “Take off your clothes. I want you naked.”

She relaxed, grateful they’d moved past the time for questions. She reached for the closures on the front of the corset. The laces at the back allowed it to be adjusted and tightened, but the hook and eye closures on the front were how she actually put it on and took it off. She started at the bottom, undoing the lower third. Then she went to the top, sliding her thumbs under the corset and undoing the closures one by one. When there were only a few middle hooks holding the corset closed, she dropped her hands. She knew what she looked like—the top of the corset was flowered open, her breasts straining to be free. A triangle of skin between the top of her thong and the inverted V of the partially removed corset would also be visible, drawing his attention down to the scrap of fabric that concealed her pussy.

She felt powerful, beautiful like this.

“Spread your legs,” he commanded.

She didn’t think, merely obeyed. She stepped wide to give him a better view of what he wanted.

“You’re aroused. I can see how wet your pussy is. You soaked the fabric.” His voice was dark and deep.

“I’m ready for you, Sir,” she murmured. Beyond ready. If he wanted to fuck her that minute, she could handle him. No one had ever gotten her ready for sex merely by being in her space.

His gaze slid up her body to her face. “I assumed part of being ready meant obeying me.”

She frowned. “Sir?”

“I told you I want you naked. You’re gorgeous and wanton but you’re not naked.” His voice deepened. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Topping from the bottom.”

She hadn’t thought of it that way, but he was right. She had been trying to tempt him. He knew her well.

She released the last closures of the corset, letting it fall. Her breasts felt heavy with need. She drew her shoulders back, offering herself to him, begging him to touch her. “That wasn’t my intention, Sir.”

“I think you’re lying to me.”

Her breath caught, and the whole world seemed to freeze. She looked at him from beneath her lashes, but for once his face was unreadable.

“Take off the panties,” he commanded. “And that’s two.”

She stripped off the thong, losing a bit of her grace in her haste to obey. “Two what, Sir?”

He stared at her, determination clear in his gaze. Robert was indulgent. In the vanilla part of their world, he would be gentle. A thrill went through her that he could let loose this piece of his soul. It was only for her. “My plans for you included a bit of pleasure, a bit of pain, but no true punishment. Now we have to talk about discipline.”

She bowed her head submissively. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Are you?” He cupped her chin with his hand, forcing her head up. “I don’t think you are. I think you want…no, you need…something more tonight. I was going to give that to you, but now I’ll have to stop and punish you, too.”

She winced. She had been topping from the bottom. “You’re…you’re right, Sir. I’m sorry.”

“You thought I wouldn’t give you what you needed.”

“You don’t see all the different parts of me. You think I’m made of glass or something. You don’t see the part of me that isn’t soft, the part that needs you to be rough.” She hadn’t realized how much she needed him to see past her outer trappings. His belief that she was soft had been the very reason he’d pushed her away before. She’d prayed after Toronto that he would see her differently.

“You are soft. Wonderfully soft.” He palmed her breast.

Thank god, he was finally touching her. Her skin sang wherever their skin met. That moment of relief changed to one of arousal when his thumbs danced over her nipple.

“And I will worship you. I will worship you with my lips.” He kissed her forehead, then feathered a kiss over each cheek. “With my hands.” He squeezed her breasts. “With my teeth.” His lips trailed down her neck to her shoulder and he bit her, hard enough that she jumped.

That flare of pain made her nipples tighten against his palms, sent a bolt of arousal through her.

“I’ll worship you when I turn you over my knee and spank your ass. When I tease your clit or torture these sweet tits.” He released her breasts only to pinch her nipples, rolling and plucking. “I will worship you, but most of all, I will dominate you. When we’re playing, you will submit to me. You will trust me to give you what you need.”

There was nothing she wanted more. She let her head fall back, exposing the line of her throat. “Yes, Sir. I trust you.”

He brushed his lips over her skin, working his way from the notch in her collarbone up her neck. He nipped her chin before retreating. “Move against the wall.”

She obeyed, taking small steps back until her shoulders hit the cool stone of the wall. She realized why he’d chosen this spot. There were chains bolted high on the wall dangling down, like some medieval dungeon.

He took leather buckle cuffs from his kit and strode over to her. He crooked a finger and she held out her wrist. “I plan to keep you chained up all night. If your wrists start to hurt or the cuffs pinch, you will indicate so, either by telling me or by holding up three fingers.”

He finished buckling her wrists into the restraints.

A shiver of trepidation went through her. They were using nonverbal protocols? Was he going to gag her? It was surprising since Rob liked to talk. He was keeping her off balance, mindfucking her. Yeah, that did something for her, too.

“Show me,” he demanded.

She held up three fingers. He nodded in satisfaction, then took her cuffed wrist and brought it back against the wall. He used a carabineer to clip the cuff to a link of the dangling chain. When both hands were restrained against the wall, he stepped back, and she couldn’t mistake the look of deep satisfaction on his handsome face.

She tested her bonds. Her arms weren’t raised overhead, which made sense if he planned to keep her like this for some time. Arms up was a tiring posture, and there was a limit to how long a sub could stay like that. Instead, he’d restrained her with her wrists level with her shoulders. She had some mobility, enough that when he stepped close again she was able to reach out just enough to brush his shoulder with her fingertips as he knelt.

He spread her legs, wide enough that her pussy was open, vulnerable, but not so wide that she couldn’t maintain the posture, then added cuffs to her ankles, and attached those to two of the closest O-rings bolted into the bottom of the wall.

She was utterly restrained, and he could do anything he liked with her. She wasn’t sure why this always did it for her, but it did. This had always been her fantasy and she’d long since given up on feeling anything so useless as shame about her sexuality.

He paused, still on his knees before her, and brought his face close to her pussy. He breathed deep. “You’re hot, so ready for me.”

“I am, Sir.”

Robert went back to his kit and pulled out a large plastic bag. She blinked, staring at what he had in his hands. Maybe it was the somewhat dim light of the dungeon, but that looked like a big bag of—

“Clothespins.” Robert showed one of his prizes to her and one side of his mouth tugged up in the most heartbreaking grin. She loved his dirty Dom, but the playfulness got to her, too. “I was planning on using clamps on you, but I couldn’t decide what kind. Trust me. I’ve spent hours thinking about this. I couldn’t decide where I would put them.” He rattled the bag. “Now I don’t have to decide. I get to put them everywhere.”

“Everywhere?” she asked.

“Everywhere.” He opened the bag and clipped a dozen or so clothespins to the bottom of his vest.

Ariel had a vivid memory of her mother doing the same, clipping clothespins to the bottom of her shirt so she could easily get them as she hung out the washing to dry.

After tonight, she was sure she’d never be able to look at a clothespin without thinking about him.

He held up one clothespin, a devilish smile quirking his lips. “Where to start?” He ran the tip of the pale wooden clothespin along the inside of one arm to her shoulder. She caught her breath as he hesitated at her breast, then let out a noisy sigh as he kept going, across the top of her chest to her other arm.

He was the one teasing now. And it worked. She wanted that stupid clothespin. Her breasts ached with need.

He repeated the motion, and this time she thrust her breasts toward him. He paused, the clothespin at her collarbone. “You want me to clamp your sweet nipples?”

More than anything. “Yes, Sir. Please.”

“What if I make you beg?”

Begging wasn’t something she would do with anyone she didn’t trust. But here it was all simply part of the game. “Then I’ll beg. Please, Sir. Robert, please. I need you.”

“It will hurt. This clothespin will bite down hard.”

He was making her crazy talking like this. “I know, I know. I want it.”

He trailed the clothespin down the center line of her body, between her breasts, over her bellybutton, to her pussy. “And what if I want to start here?”

“Then I’ll beg you to clamp my pussy, Sir.”

“Your clit?” He rubbed her clit with the clothespin. The wood, which had felt smooth against her flesh before now, felt hard, the edges sharp, the metal of the spring cold. “Would you beg me to clamp your clit?”

She whimpered.

“Answer me,” he commanded in his deep Dom voice.

“Yes, yes.” She rocked her hips forward, sliding against his hand. “I would beg you to clamp my clit. I would beg you to torture my pussy.”

“Excellent.”

She heard the clothespin clatter to the floor, but before she could get too disappointed, he bent his head and sucked one nipple into his mouth. The sensation sent a jolt of desire through her. Her body went taut and she found herself on her toes. She tried to grab his head, to hold him to her breasts, but the chains wouldn’t allow it. She moaned in pleasure and frustration and he drew his head back, nipple sliding from between his lips. He treated her other breast to the same delicious tug as he let it slide from his mouth.

He was breathing hard when he cupped her breast, lifting it. She looked down and saw the hard bulge his cock had made in his leathers.

His thumb brushed her nipple, bringing her attention back to her breast. He plucked a clothespin from his vest and squeezed it open. She held her breath, her heart hammering in her chest as he lowered it toward her.

Only for him to veer away. He instead pinched the underside of her breast with the thumb and forefinger of his other hand, then attached the clothespin there. She let out the breath she’d been holding, only to gasp. With each inhale the clothespin jiggled, sending fresh bolts of sensation the short distance between the clothespin and her nipple.

He added a clothespin to the same spot on the other breast, then stepped back. “How does that feel?”

It hurt, but she was extremely aroused, so the pain fed her wanting. “Odd. It’s not what I expected.”

He nodded as if that’s what he’d thought she’d say and selected another clothespin. Again, he clipped it to her breast, this time beside her nipple. Ariel closed her eyes, concentrating on the feeling of his hands on her. Again and again he pinched the skin of her breast, then snapped a clothespin into place. It had been a long time since anyone had paid this much attention to her breasts without touching her nipples. She hadn’t realized how hot it would make her, how much she would like the short burst of pain, followed by the lingering warmth from the pinch of the clothespins.

She heard Robert step back and opened her eyes. He was watching her with a hungry gaze. She looked down, examining his handiwork. A ring of six clothespins circled each breast. Her nipples, untouched in the center, were ruched up tight.

She licked her lower lip and brought her gaze to meet his.

“More, please, Sir.”

Robert growled and lunged for her. She arched her back, offering her already wonderfully abused breasts, but he didn’t wrap his arms around her or reach for her nipples. He hit his knees, grabbing the inside of her thighs and forcing her ass back against the wall. He spread her open, then leaned in and licked her pussy, one long stroke up to her clit. Her breath fled as his tongue glided over her. She’d hadn’t expected it, hadn’t had time to prepare herself mentally for how desperately aroused—and therefore wildly sensitive—she was. She tried to clamp her thighs around his head, but he held her open. He nipped the flesh at the top of her pussy, his lower teeth and lip almost brushing her clit.

She wrapped her hands around the chains, needing the balance they provided. “Sir, please. I need to come.”

“You don’t come until I give you permission.” He smacked the inside of her thigh, sending a delicious thrill through her. “Look at me.”

She looked down, past the clothespins, to where he knelt between her legs. Holding her gaze, he stuck out his tongue, flicking her clit.

She could have come then—she was ready. The bondage, the clothespins, every delicious word he’d said…they were enough. They’d brought her to the edge.

But her Dom had told her she couldn’t come until she had permission. The part of her that needed to submit, that needed to not be in control, forced her to hold back the orgasm.

“I want to come, Sir,” she begged.

Robert surged to his feet. “Open your mouth.”

Eagerly, she obeyed, hoping he’d kiss her, or maybe he’d loosen the chains, lower her to her knees, and slide his cock into her mouth.

“Stick out your tongue.”

Again she obeyed.

“This is your punishment.” He raised a clothespin, squeezed it open. He positioned it on her tongue, then released it.

She whimpered as the clothespin bit down. It hurt, and not with the sweet arousal-tempered burn of the ones on her breasts.

He raised a second clothespin and her eyes widened.

“You earned two,” he reminded her softly.

She shook her head. Robert looked pointedly at each hand. He’d given her a signal she could use if this was too much.

She kept her hands wrapped firmly around the chains. Though her job was helping other people express their feelings through words, she wasn’t sure she could fully explain what she felt in that moment. Robert, who acted like her boyfriend, worshiped her to the point she felt like a goddess around him, was now punishing her.

This was a real punishment, a bite of pain not softened with pleasure. A sign that he was able and more than willing to truly top her in the club. To correct her behavior, to control and command her even while taking care of her. The dichotomy of this man was fascinating. Robert, who had so little control in his own life, had complete control of her.

She dropped her gaze to his chin.

“Good girl.” He raised and applied a second clothespin to her tongue. “Two.”

Again she whimpered. She could no longer close her mouth, and she could feel the saliva beginning to pool against her lower lip.

Robert kissed her forehead, then dropped to his knees once more. Ariel wanted to look down at what he was doing, but she stared forward, letting the sensation roll over her. She couldn’t think about anything but what he was doing to her body. The clothespins pinched, but they were doing their job. They were forcing her to stay in the now, to concentrate on him.

His fingers slid along her labia. He stroked every plump, damp fold of her pussy with his fingers, as if he were memorizing her by touch. She sighed in pleasure, her breath catching when he came close to her clit, but he never touched it. He took his time, playing with her as if she were his favorite toy. And as he did, her need grew and grew, swelling inside her so that with each breath she was aware of every inch of her own skin.

Then he tugged on her labia. “This isn’t punishment. This will hurt, but it’s not punishment. It’s pain because you need it.” There was a pause, and then she felt the open clothespin slide over one side of her plump pussy. She held her breath.

Robert released the clothespin. It bit down, pinching hard and tight. She shrieked and danced onto her toes.

Robert switched to the other side of her pussy. Again she felt the clothespin slide into place. “You need it, and I need to give it to you.”

He released the pin, and a fresh wave pulsed through her, centered on her wonderfully tortured pussy.

“And,” he growled, “I like playing with and tormenting this sweet pussy.”

The sharp, stinging pinch faded to a warm pulsing that was neither pleasure or pain but both. Ariel shifted her hips side to side, feeling the clothespins clack against one another. Robert tugged one gently and she thrust her hips out. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

She felt the tug as he unclipped her ankle bindings from the wall.

She let her mind float, finding that wonderful peace where she didn’t have to make any decisions, where she didn’t have to try and decipher another person’s actions or words. There was no ambiguity here. He ordered. She obeyed.

“Look at me.”

Ariel lowered her chin, wincing as a bit of saliva spilled down onto her chest.

“God, you’re gorgeous. I don’t know why I was worried about this. You like it. You like it rough and I like giving it to you. Baby, you are the single sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Robert reached up, sliding his thumb through the moisture, then rubbed it over her nipple. When he withdrew, the air on her wet skin was cold, making her nipple ache for his touch. He repeated the caress on the other side, dampening that nipple too.

“Brace yourself.” Robert grabbed ahold of her hips.

Unsure what he was about to do, but trusting him fully, she adjusted her grip on the chains and held tight.

Robert lifted her hips up and away from the wall, her feet leaving the floor. For a moment she was suspended in the air, her bodyweight supported by his massive, muscled arms. Robert adjusted her so that her thighs were on his shoulders, her back resting against the wall.

“Don’t try to hold yourself up,” he ordered. “I’ve got you. Trust me.”

Ariel relaxed her shoulders and arms, letting her weight settle on him. His hands were on her ass, supporting her from below, his face only inches from her pussy. She was completely dependent on him.

“I’m going to eat this sweet pussy. You come as many times as you want. I want to taste you when you come. Then, no matter how many times you’ve come, I’m going to make you come again when I fuck you.” His words were a promise—a dark, wonderful promise.

She nodded, wanting to let him know how much she needed him. Wanted to beg him for more, but she couldn’t.

She was being punished because she hadn’t trusted him, and she welcomed that punishment, even as she swore she would never fail to trust him again. When they were in a club, they were solid. They were together. This was finally their time and she wouldn’t let anything come between them. She would quit if she had to. Robert was the important thing.

He used two fingers to spread her pussy open, pressing the clothespins against the inside of her thighs. “These will help keep your pussy open for me, so I can taste every inch of you. Next time I’m taping the clothespins in place, so your pussy will stay spread. So I can see your clit at all times.”

She came close to orgasm right then. The man liked to talk, and he was very, very good at it.

He buried his face in her sex and proved that there was something he was better at than dirty talk, and that was eating pussy. The clothespins bit deeper into her labia as they were squeezed between her thighs and his cheeks. The fresh spikes of pain only made her hotter, and when his nose bumped her clit as his tongue thrust inside her she came.

She’d been hovering near orgasm since he’d put the clothespins on her tongue. Now she had his permission to find release, and his face buried in her pussy was all she needed to fall over that edge.

Every muscle in her body tensed for a moment, that sweet peak of pleasure holding her like a vice. Robert thrust his tongue deep inside her, and that tension broke. She screamed in pleasure. Normally she didn’t. Normally she would have clenched her teeth, but he’d made it so she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t hide the sounds she was making. Everyone around them would look over and know what he was doing to her.

Robert’s tongue swept up to her clit and she sobbed. She was so sensitive it was as if he’d touched her with a live wire. Every nerve ending jangled. It was too much, and she had no way to tell him that.

Robert paused, his mouth still against her, and then stopped. He kissed her clit, the soft pressure of his lips a shockingly intense sensation. He kissed her again and again, laying almost chaste kisses over the swollen pearl as she came down from the first orgasm.

Her breathing steadied and softened, but his mouth never stopped, and soon those closed-lip kisses became an open mouth. Each time he kissed her she felt the edges of his teeth and tongue dance over her. She started to rock her hips forward and back, needed to move, needed that primal thrusting motion.

Robert drew back. She looked down at him. Their gazes met. Held.

He reached up between her legs from below, grabbed both clothespins, and yanked them off.

She gasped as pleasure-pain raced through her. Robert pounced, his mouth covering her clit. He licked her with rhythmic passes of the broad flat of his tongue. She came again. Forgetting about the clothespins on her tongue she bit down, adding a fresh layer of pain over the wave of pleasure she was riding. Her thigh muscles trembled, as did her arms.

Each exhale was a whimper of pleasure, each inhale made the clothespins still on her breasts jiggle, and her nipples were diamond hard and aching to be played with.

Robert lifted his head from her pussy, examining her with a dark intensity that made her shiver. He kept his gaze on her as he lowered her back to her feet. The moment lengthened between them, the intimacy almost too much to take. He looked down at her like she was a work of art he’d had a hand in creating.

And then one long arm slid up her side to her breast. He cupped her, the edge of his index finger and thumb nudging the clothespins.

Ariel looked at him, eyes widening as she shook her head. She couldn’t come again. Not so soon.

Robert swiped his hand across both breasts, knocking all the clothespins off with one sweep.

Her breathing was hard, fast, and a bit shaky. She looked up at him, mute and pleading. Robert released one of the clothespins from her tongue. She screwed her eyes closed in pain as her tongue throbbed. He released the other and she closed her mouth, swallowing hard.

“You took your punishment well,” he murmured. “Good girl.”

She rubbed her abused tongue against the top of her mouth, easing the ache.

“Open your mouth,” he commanded.

Ariel looked at him, eyes wide. She didn’t want those clothespins back on her tongue. That had hurt and she hadn’t liked not being able to talk. She didn’t want to open her mouth. Didn’t want to obey.

But he was her Dom, and she trusted him.

She stopped herself from whimpering, but she did as he’d ordered, opening her mouth. Robert’s cock twitched against her pussy.

“Do you know what it does to me when you obey?” He kissed the corner of her mouth, then sucked her lower lip. “It makes me want to fuck you.”

He captured her mouth with a kiss. Ariel kissed him back, nipping and licking.

“Please.” She breathed the word against his lips. “Please.” She rubbed her cheek against his, feeling the stubble there.

“Are you sure?” He stared into her eyes. “I can grab a condom.”

They’d had this discussion before they’d come down to get ready. He had medical tests constantly. She was on birth control. Neither had any desire to play around. They were going to be monogamous. “I’m sure. I want you.”

“I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you.” He worked the ties of his leathers, shoving them down and freeing his cock. He moved into her space, pinning her to the wall and reaching down to haul her thighs up. “Wrap your legs around me. I want you to come again.”

She held on tight, gripping his waist with her thighs. “Even if I don’t, this has been—”

Robert took one of the clothespins recently liberated from her tongue and snapped it onto her right nipple.

Her vision went blurry as pleasure-pain lanced through her. She’d thought she was done. That she had nothing more to give.

Robert proved that wrong. He applied the other clothespin to her left nipple. She buried her face against his neck and bit him, needing to give back a bit of what she felt, needing to mark him as he’d marked her. He growled, and then he was holding her hips, lifting her up, his cock nudging her thigh before sliding against her pussy.

Ariel let her head fall back against the wall. Robert shifted his grip on her hips, freeing one hand to come up and cup her head, protecting her from whacking against the stone.

It was such a sweet, caring gesture that her throat tightened with tears. This was what she’d been waiting for all her life. This man. He was everything she needed.

God, she was in love with him.

Robert’s cock slid into her, and there was no more room for soft emotions. His cock filled her, opened her body, which was tight from the orgasms. When he was fully inside her he paused, his breath hot and damp against her neck. She shivered, the tremble working its way down her body. Her nipples were burning from the clothespins, her pussy was pulsing around his cock. She’d thought she couldn’t come again, but she would.

Robert lifted his head and kissed her softly, sweetly.

Then he adjusted his stance and began to thrust in hard.

Ariel felt as if she could fly away or fly apart. Pleasure pulsed through her each time he shoved that big cock into her body. Her mouth felt swollen from his kisses. Her aching tongue reminded her of his punishment, and her nipples burned within the vise of the clothespins.

She hovered there, on the edge of a final orgasm. He thrust in, lifting her body with the force of it, his hand protecting her head, his cock so deep inside her that his groin rubbed her clit.

“Together,” he panted.

Together. Yes. They were strong together, better together. She was caught between his body and the wall behind her, and there was no place else she would rather be.

Robert reached between them and yanked the clothespins from her nipples. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her pussy clamped down on his cock, and she came. Every muscle went taut, and she wished she could hold him, wished she could cling to him as a storm of pleasure and feeling washed over her. She couldn’t wrap her arms around him, but she clung to him with her legs and buried her face in the curve of his neck, tears dampening his skin.

Robert thrust once, twice, and a third time. He whispered her name, and the way he said it, with such gentleness, made her heart ache.

They stayed that way, intertwined, for the longest time. Finally he set her back on her feet.

Robert stared down at her. For once, neither of them had anything to say. He kissed her softly then went about releasing her from her bondage. He was still wearing his vest and tucked his cock away in his leathers. She was naked and trembling both from the intensity of what she’d experienced and the chill she felt after the loss of his body heat.

When she was free, Robert scooped her up in his arms and she settled in, one arm around him, head on his shoulders. There were plenty of other scenes still going on, but they were done. In silence, he carried her out of the club to their room.