I slowly climb the staircase, my heart racing in my chest. I can hear faint music coming from the top. It’s an intriguing mix of stringed instruments, drums, and electric guitars, growing louder as I get closer to the top.
The light is dim, but I can make out pictures hanging on the walls beside me, beautiful black and white photos. I look closer at one and realize that it’s a photo of a delicate wrist bound by a scarf. The next photo is of an eye, the pupil dilated wide. Then plump lips open in a gasp. The photos are sensuous, erotic.
I shiver with anticipation.
“Ms. Jenkins? One more thing,” the woman calls out, following me up the stairs. “I almost forgot the most important part.”
She holds out a clipboard and a pen for me to sign the form. It’s too dark for me to make out the small print. I pause.
“I never sign anything I haven’t read,” I reply. Standard lawyer protocol.
“It’s just a nondisclosure agreement,” she replies. “I’m afraid I can’t let you enter without signing. We take our members’ privacy very seriously,” she adds.
I’m torn. My lawyer instincts tell me to sit down and go through the form with a fine-toothed comb, but I’m impatient to get inside and see what tonight is all about.
I squint at the page, scanning as much as I can. It seems standard, so impulsively, I scrawl my signature at the bottom. It’s a leap of faith, but my mystery man hasn’t steered me wrong so far.
“Thank you,” the woman nods. “You’re free to enjoy our facilities now.”
As I hand back the clipboard, I realize that she’s not wearing a slip under her dress. Her nipples are visible, rosy beneath the lace, and when I glance lower…
She’s definitely not wearing any underwear.
What is this place?
“Is there something I’m supposed to… do?” I ask hesitantly. I don’t want to seem like a total idiot, but I’m flying blind tonight.
She smiles, like she’s seen it all before. “It’s up to you. Look around, explore, and if you see something you like… Feel free to do whatever you want.”
That narrows it down.
I turn back to the entry and take a deep breath. I climb the final few steps, and emerge from the staircase into a larger room. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dark interior, but then I look around, eagerly drinking it in.
I’m standing on the edge of what looks like a bar – a private, classy, luxurious bar. The decor is unique but elegant, all dark gleaming wood, supple leather, and luscious velvets and brocades. I’m not alone; there are maybe a dozen other people here, lounging at tables and in the booths. I look at them curiously. At first, they look like any other crowd you’d expect to find at an exclusive place like this, but when I glance closer, I can see, they’re not the usual fashionable New York elite. The dresses are tighter, more risqué. Leather and lace, visible lingerie and plunging necklines. There’s an edge beneath the polish: a hint of bold cuffs and chokers, a glimpse of a tattoo.
It’s daring and provocative, and I love it.
Someone brushes past me, and I step out of the way. A woman struts by in a tight leather dress. She’s holding a leash, and walking two paces behind her is a man wearing a crisp tuxedo – and a collar around his neck.
It hits me all at once.
Holy shit! He brought me to a sex club!
I look around again, my heart racing. I’ve never been somewhere like this before. I always figured they were seedy places full of middle-aged swingers, but this is something else: classy, bold.
Sexy.
My heart pounds in my chest. I feel my nipples tighten. I can’t believe this is what he planned for us, but I’m excited too.
“Ms. Jenkins?”
I turn. A man is standing beside me, a young, cute guy in a tux. For a moment I catch my breath, wondering if this is it, if I’m finally meeting him face to face… Then I see the red piping on his shirt, the same as the bouncer downstairs.
It’s not him.
“A member asked me to give you this.” He hands me an envelope, and then melts back into the crowd.
Another invitation.
I tear it open, and read the note.
What’s your fantasy?
I look around, scanning the room. The last time he did this, he was close by, watching every move. I know in my bones that he’s here tonight, too.
Watching. Waiting.
What does he want from me?
I tuck the note in my purse and decide to look around. He won’t show himself until he’s ready, and in the meantime, there’s plenty to distract me. I go over to the bar and order a gin martini, dirty. The bartender is another hot guy, this time wearing a tux jacket, open over bare abs and some kind of leather harness.
Yum.
He catches me looking. “I get off in an hour,” he murmurs, handing me my drink with a wink. “My Domme lets me out to play, and I bet those heels of yours could do some damage.” His eyes drift lower. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for my reply.
My pulse kicks. I take a sip of my martini and wonder if this is what my admirer planned for me. But I don’t think so – and the thought of digging my killer heels into this guy’s back makes me wince, and not in a fun way.
“Not tonight,” I say with a smile, but still, the invitation boosts my confidence. I walk away with a swing in my step, looking for my next adventure.
I do a circuit of the room, absorbing the scene. Most of the people sit in small groups, drinking and flirting, but it’s like an amped up, X-rated pick-up joint. One man has a woman sitting on his lap as they talk to a friend. Her dress is falling open, and the man is slowly fondling the woman’s breasts as he talks. At one table, a distinguished looking man eats dinner as a beautiful girl kneels on a pillow at his feet. Her head rests against his knee and she looks up at him with total obedience as he feeds her bites from his plate. They seem so intimate, I have to look away. I move on, my head spinning.
I find a seat on the edge of the room and take another sip of my drink, trying to steady my nerves. I feel like I’ve wandered into an alternate universe, where people are happy to flaunt their desires and darkest secrets, totally unashamed. It’s a rush, watching them. I’ve always thought I was pretty wild in the bedroom, but these guys are on a whole other level.
My eyes catch on a glamorous woman in the corner booth. She’s dressed in a silky robe, with diamonds glittering at her neck and wrists, flanked by two hot younger guys. She could be on the cover of any magazine, or maybe she’s a high-powered executive with a taste for the finer things in life. As I watch, curious, the men lean over and begin kissing along her neck and shoulders. She strokes their heads gently, guiding them lower. They ease the robe open, baring her full, round breasts, and turn their attentions there, licking and caressing her.
I watch, entranced. She opens her eyes and notices me.
Shit! I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment, but she just gives me a satisfied wink. She leans back and closes her eyes, guiding one head down below the table like she doesn’t even care I’m here.
Wow. I try to imagine what it would be like, to be in her place. Just laying back as someone – more than one man – pleasures my body. Here, in the open, for anyone to see…
I feel a tightness low in my belly. A heat between my thighs. I’m already getting turned on, and I’ve barely been here ten minutes.
I tear myself away from watching the threesome, and keep circulating. I don’t know why He brought me here, what he wants me to see, but I’m loving what I’ve found so far.
There’s an archway leading to another room, so I step through. This space is smaller, set up as a kind of performance area with a raised platform at one end and a carved wooden X shape mounted on the far wall. I look closer, and realize that it has leather cuffs fastened on each plank to strap someone in place, spread-eagle. This person would be restrained, so that anyone could touch them, spank them, keep them under control.
Kinky.
There are several hallways leading off from the room, so I pick one and head deeper into the building, my pulse rising. It’s nearly pitch black except for the dimly lit signs along the walls, and I feel like I’m on a forbidden scavenger hunt, with no idea what I’m going to find.
I read the signs as I pass. The rooms are all named by different precious stones: Ruby, Sapphire, Emerald, Pearl. Some of them have ‘occupied’ signs hanging from silk ribbons, others are ajar. Inviting.
One of the rooms labeled Onyx is open. I feel a shiver of curiosity, and gently push the door wider. I peek inside. There’s nobody here, so I step into the room and look around.
It’s set up like some kind of torture dungeon, but it’s the classiest, sexiest dungeon I’ve ever seen. Black silk drapes on the walls, patterned damask rugs on the polished floor. There are ropes and pulleys dangling from the ceiling, dull metal gleaming in the light. On one wall, there’s a carved wooden rack of objects: crops, canes, whips and paddles. In the corner, I find a mahogany spanking bench with intricately carved handles – to grip hold of while somebody uses one of those crops…
Is this why he brought me here?
I shiver, nervous and turned on at the same time. This place is totally wild, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. The more I see, the more my mind explodes with possibilities of what I could do. What he could do to me…
More than that, I love what this place says about him. He’s a member here, he knows all the rules and regulations. Maybe he’s even used this room before – the spanking bench, the riding crops.
Everything he’s done so far - the notes, the lingerie, the butterfly, the club - has been perfectly planned, designed to arouse me and drive me into a frenzy of anticipation. Well, he’s got what he wanted. Being surprised like this, turned on, pushed out of my comfort zone -- this is my wildest fantasy.
So how does he know?
The question lingers in my mind as I retrace my steps back to the bar. This time, a group of people is forming around the stage area in the anteroom. I join them in time to see a woman take her place across a padded spanking bench. She’s wearing a short silky dress, and as I watch, a man in a designer suit strolls forwards and carefully ties her hands and feet in place. He’s wearing a mask, a simple black strip across his face, so his identity is hidden.
When the woman is secured, he leans over and murmurs to her. She nods, looking eager, and then leans over so her silk-covered ass is thrust in the air with her blonde hair spilling down over her face.
The man turns to select a tool from the rack beside him. He lifts a kind of whip, with thick leather strands hanging from a main hilt, then slowly paces around so he’s behind her. The crowd hushes, like they’re watching a show. I find I’m holding my breath, full of anticipation about what’s to come.
The man slowly pushes up her dress. She’s not wearing any panties, and the globes of her ass glow pale in the dim light. He runs the strands of the flogger over her bare skin, and I swear, I hear her moan.
“What’s the magic word?” The man murmurs, trailing it down her crack.
“Please,” the woman gasps. “Oh god, please.”
As if released by her permission, the man lifts the flogger and brings it down against her ass in a sharp crack.
Holy shit, that had to hurt!
But the woman doesn’t make a sound. She grips the edge of the bench, her face flushed, breathing heavily. He strikes her again, on the other side, and then again.
She moans.
I shiver, but I can’t look away. There’s something enthralling about the scene playing out on stage, the way he trails the leather across her red ass, the steady rhythm to his flogging. The woman’s moans get louder. With each expert hit and caress across her ass and thighs, she squirms harder and then begs for more. Her thighs are wet with her juices, her expression desperate with lust.
She loves it.
The crowd is silent, caught up in the sensual spell. I find myself getting aroused by her pleasure, about how totally illicit this is. I imagine myself up on stage, strapped down and bent over the spanking horse. My wet pussy bare for the audience to see as Mr. X rains down hits across my sensitive ass.
Would I moan with pleasure like her? Would it feel good to me?
Would I beg for release like she’s begging, totally at his mercy, desperate and out of control?
Damn. I flush. I’m wet just thinking about it, imagining my own moans of pleasure – and how good it would feel when he finally released me and drove his hard cock deep inside. I look around, wondering if anyone can see my arousal, but they’re all captivated by the scene on stage. Some of them aren’t even trying to hide it. I see a woman down on her knees, sucking off a man who’s watching the show. By the wall, a man is fucking a woman from behind, slowly driving into her in time with the moans from the stage.
I suddenly feel flustered, overwhelmed by the sexual charge in the room. I back away, quickly walking into the bar. I switch out my empty martini glass for a drink of water, and gulp the refreshing liquid down.
Pull it together, Justine. I scold myself, taking a deep breath. You wanted an adventure, didn’t you? Well here it is. The sexiest damn adventure you’ll ever know.
As I recover from the thrill of watching the flogging scene, I realize what’s been nudging in the back of my mind all night, ever since I arrived.
I like it here.
I should be shocked, disgusted even. The things happening under this roof are illicit and dirty, and most women would have turned around and fled by now.
But I’m not most women.
I’m curious. Excited. And definitely turned on.
There’s something so glamorous and seductive about this place. It’s where your wildest fantasy could come true – no judgment, no shame. There’s something liberating about the secrecy. Nobody knows each other’s names, and nobody cares. This is all about pleasure and freedom, nothing else. For a few hours, you can forget about all your responsibilities and hang-ups, and just be yourself. The real world doesn’t exist.
My pulse has just about returned to normal when a woman in a sleek leather dress approaches me. I notice a discreet earpiece tucked against her cheek.
“Ms. Jenkins?”
I look up.
“Your room is ready.”
My heart stops. This is it. Him.
It’s time.
The woman leads me down the hallway, her heels tapping on the polished floor. I follow with my heart in my throat. I don’t know where she’s leading me, or what to expect. With every step, my nerves twist tighter. I’m anxious, scared – and turned on.
The hostess stops outside a door. Diamond.
“Enjoy,” she says with a knowing wink. Then she turns and walks away.
Adrenaline, desire, and anticipation all course through my system in a wave that leaves me dizzy. Behind this door is the answer I’ve been waiting for, the identity of the man who’s sent me on this naughty, delicious adventure.
I take a deep breath and reach for the doorknob.
This is it.
ELEVEN
I step into the room, and right away, disappointment hits me.
There’s nobody here.
The room is empty. I don’t understand. Where is he??
Maybe we’re still playing the game.
The thought lifts my spirits. Yes, that’s got to be it. This is just the next part of his plan – which means only good things are waiting for me.
I close the door and look around. The room is small and cozy, lit by vintage-looking brass sconces on the wall. There’s a leather chaise positioned in the middle of the room, facing a wall covered by heavy velvet curtains. Another wall has an intricate wooden grille, almost like the confessional they have in church.
I wonder if I’m supposed to confess my sexy secrets. My mystery man seems to know them all already.
Suddenly, I hear a high-pitched moan from a neighboring room. I grin. Somebody’s getting lucky tonight.
I wait for him to reveal the next part of this game, but nothing happens.
The moans get louder.
I realize that they’re coming from the front of the room, from behind the curtain. I slowly approach the drapes and lean closer. The moaning woman is definitely on the other side.
I pause, not sure what I’m supposed to do next. I wonder for a moment if he is in the other room, if he’s the one making that woman moan.
I feel a flash of jealousy. I want his hands on me, not anyone else.
The woman lets out a deep, pleasure-filled gasp. My fingers twitch with curiosity, and I can’t stop myself reaching to pull the curtain back.
I want to see.
I inch the curtain open the tiniest bit, enough to allow me peek through the gap. There’s glass behind it, and I realize that the curtain hides a window.
I open the curtain a little wider.
On the other side of the glass is a private bedroom, intimately lit. A large canopy bed dominates the room.
A woman is tied to the bed. Blindfolded.
My breath catches as I take in the details of the scene. There’s a shirtless man standing over her, unlacing the front of her dress. She arches back, thrusting up off the bed, the tops of her thighs gleaming from her arousal.
Suddenly, the man’s hand darts out and grabs her ankle. With a quick pull, he flips her onto her stomach. Her shriek of surprise turns into a squeal when he slaps his palm against her ass with a loud crack.
“Behave,” he orders. His voice seethes with power.
“Yes, Sir,” she gasps, rising on her knees to give him better access to her ass.
“You want that pretty ass of yours reddened, don’t you?” he asks.
“Please, Sir, you know that’s what I deserve.” She parts her knees, opening herself up to him.
Her hands are still tied to the headrest, her arms twisted loosely, in an exquisite X.
I’m enthralled. I know I should close the curtain and give them their privacy, but I can’t move a muscle. I can hear the desperation in this woman’s voice. She craves his hand heating her skin, the palm slaps stinging her ass and thighs a rosy pink. Even after watching the display in the main room, shock and thrill is still fresh in my veins.
Intoxicating.
He spanks her slowly, each hit of his palm solid, expertly placed. Her gasps and moans tell me that she loves every strike.
As I watch, he slowly rolls her panties down her thighs, giving each inch of revealed skin a few sharp taps. By the end, when he’s slapping the soles of her feet, she a panting, writhing mess.
“I don’t think you’re ready yet,” he murmurs.
“Yes! Yes! Please,” she whimpers.
“Not until I say so, sweetheart.” He slides his hand between her open thighs and then lightly swats her pussy.
Her back arches, her toes curl. I can’t believe it, but she’s coming, right there in front of me. I watch her body writhe with the force of her climax, as the man gently rubs her clit, pushing her orgasm to the next level.
Oh. My. God.
This is so naughty. I shouldn’t watch, but I’m hidden, alone, my body tingling. I can’t turn away.
“You came without permission, darling,” he murmurs with affection.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” she replies, sincere regret in her voice. “Can I make it up to you?”
“I don’t know if you can,” he teases. He pets her back, her pink ass, dips his fingers into her wet pussy.
Her voice turns desperate. “Please, let me suck you, Sir. I need to taste you.”
“I don’t know if you’ve earned the privilege of tasting your Master’s cock. You disobeyed,” he croons.
“No,” she cries. “Please! I’ll be so good for you!” She pulls at her bonds trying to touch him.
He pets her face, shushes her. “It’s all right, my darling. I’ll give you what you need.” He unties her from the bed.
My heart is thundering like crazy. There’s something so thrilling about being hidden here. This couple don’t know that I can see them, that I’m standing just a few feet away.
It’s wrong, but I’m wet, just watching them. I can feel the low ache between my thighs, my nipples pulling tight and sharp.
I cup my breast through my dress, softly stroking my nipple, trying to relieve the ache. It only makes me hotter as I hide behind the curtain and watch the couple through the hidden window.
The blindfolded woman gets on her knees in front of the bed. The man yanks down his pants and drives his hard cock into her mouth. She licks along the length, moaning and gasping with pleasure. He buries his hands in her hair and sinks deeper. She cries out in pleasure around his thickness.
My legs go weak. I’ve tried watching porn before, but I never found it did much for me. It was all bleached blonde girls with implants getting jackhammered by pumped up models. But this…
This is hotter than anything I’ve seen before. They’re real, right here in front of me. Nothing staged, nothing pretend. Every touch, every kiss, every thrust of his cock is all for real, and I can’t help the way my body responds, so fucking turned on to see them.
I imagine myself in her place, on my knees. A hand fisted tight in my hair as a thick hard cock takes its pleasure from my mouth. Rubbing against my tongue, pushing into my throat as I kneel helpless and bound. Loving every second of it and needing so much more.
The man pulls his woman onto her feet. He picks her up in his arms and carries her to the bed, laying her down on her back again. He reties her hands to the slats of the headboard with the silken rope.
“You’re so good to me, my darling. So beautiful,” he praises, his hand caressing the length of her body. “I want you to enjoy this.”
He runs his hands over her skin, following them with his mouth in small nips and licks and kisses. His palms hold her down in place as she arches towards the teasing touch. She begs him for more and he ignores her, tweaking her nipple, nibbling along her collarbone, caressing her thighs.
I imagine hands running over my naked body, pinching my nipples, rubbing my clit. His lips whispering praise and leaving kisses, licks, bites in their path.
A moan slips past my lips.
No! I clasp my hand over my mouth, horrified at the noise. But the couple on the other side of the window don’t react. They must not have heard me.
I watch him slide down her body, leaving no skin untouched from his fingers and lips. She’s on fire, her voice only moans and half-finished cries. She writhes on the bed, body strung tight, forced to feel everything he gives her.
He moves down between her splayed legs, and sucks a dark mark on her creamy thigh. He lifts her knees, opening her up before he leans in and licks up against her cunt.
Holy shit, that’s hot.
I watch him worship her pussy with his mouth, and all I can feel is the throbbing ache between my legs. My desperate need to be touched. My thighs slide, damp against each another as I try to find friction. Anything to satisfy the ache.
A frustrated groan escapes my lips. I need more than the slick, unsatisfying slide.
I need pressure. Friction.
I need more.
I reach down, squeezing my aching nipple tight with one hand as the other slides up my thigh. I slip my hand under my skirt. My panties are soaked through, and I press against them with a groan of relief. I’m desperate, aching, needing to satiate the throb—
A man’s voice comes from behind the screen.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Touch yourself.”
TWELVE
I freeze. Somebody’s watching me!
I wrench my hand from under my skirt and spin around. There’s a dark silhouette behind the wooden grille that I swear wasn’t there when I entered the room.
Somebody’s there. He’s seen everything.
“Oh my god,” I gasp, mortified. My heart races and my skin is burning up in embarrassment. I can’t believe someone watched me spy on the other couple – and touch myself because I was so turned on.
“Shh. It’s OK,” the man murmurs. His voice feels warm, familiar. But I know I’ve never heard it before.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he reassures me, sounding amused. “They can’t see you or hear you. They don’t know that you’re watching. You’re safe.”
“Who are you? What are you doing?” I nervously ask. “I didn’t realize anyone was there.”
I wonder if this is part of the club: every room has a hidden viewpoint for guests to keep watch on the people inside. But no, he said the people in the other room have no idea that I’m here. They can’t see or speak to me – and I can do both with this man.
“I’ve been watching you,” he says, his voice thick with satisfaction. “I knew you’d like the club. All the naughty, dirty things people do. You’re a natural.”
Realization hits me so hard my knees go weak.
“It’s you,” I whisper, flooded with excitement. “ You’re here.”
“I am, sweetheart,” he replies, his voice warm and teasing. “Surprise.”
I catch my breath, trying to process this new twist in the game. Now I have a voice to put to the notes, but I have no idea who he really is.
Still, knowing he’s there, just a few feet away from me, fills me with anticipation. This is the closest we’ve ever been. I can see him, hear him. And he could come into the room at any time.
“I enjoyed your gifts,” I tell him, trying to sound casual. Like I’m wooed by sexy, mysterious strangers all the time. “You have good taste.”
He chuckles. “You looked so beautiful when you came. Did you feel me there, watching you? Did you wish it was me fingering that slick pussy instead? Filling you up, stretching you wide open.”
His voice washes over me in a sensual caress. I shiver with lust.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“I’m just getting started. Are you ready to play?”
I gulp, then nod.
“Good girl,” he says, and I can hear the tension of lust in his voice. “Now, I want you to touch yourself.”
My stomach twists. I can hear it in his voice, he wants me. Needs me. As much as I need him.
“Come here and touch me yourself,” I challenge.
I lick my lips. My hard nipples rasp painfully against the lace of my bra, electrifying every nerve in my body. My pussy throbs as I wait for his response.
Mr. X chuckles again. “Not yet, my pretty minx. Right now, I just want to watch.”
I make a noise of disappointment and frustration. I need him to touch me, now. My body is aching, way past the point of just being turned on.
I crave him. His hands. His tongue.
His cock buried deep inside me.
Another moan comes from behind the curtain, and this time, it seems to taunt me. She has a man giving her what she needs, and I can only stand here on shaking legs, craving that touch.
“Open the curtain, Justine.” He orders me. “Watch them.”
Almost as if in a trance, I push the curtain aside and look through the window. My breath catches at what I see.
They’re on the bed, naked. The man has the woman on her back, her legs thrown up over his shoulders. He slams his thick cock inside her, so hard her back arches and she lets out a cry of pleasure.
The sound ignites something inside of me, a deep craving instinct.
Fuck, that’s hot.
My fingers tighten on the skirt of my dress, dragging it up my legs. I’m so turned on, so aware of my body and the wetness aching between my thighs.
“Touch yourself,” he murmurs from across the room. “Your pretty nipples are stiff, I can see. They’re begging for you to touch them, aren’t they?”
I nod, my mouth dry. I’m turned on by his voice, and the X-rated scene in front of me, but still something holds me back.
Should I do this? Touch myself while he watches?
“Push your dress aside, sweetheart,” he orders me, his voice stronger now. “Touch your breasts, stroke them. Don’t think. Just let yourself feel.”
As if under a spell, I find myself loosening the tie around my waist and pushing my dress off one shoulder. I’m wearing a silk bra underneath, and I tug the strap down my arm. A shock of cool air hit my bare breast, making me gasp, but it just adds to the sensual pleasure as I cup myself with my hand.
I gently stroke the swollen skin. Mmm, that feels good. My nipple is tight, begging for attention, so I close my fingers around it and give a light tweak.
Yes…
“That’s it, sweetheart. You like it, don’t you?” His voice is hypnotic, low and smooth. “You love me watching you. Telling you what to do... Now squeeze harder.”
His voice caresses my senses, and my hands follow his commands as if they have a mind of their own. I reach both hands to my breasts, and pinch and squeeze my puckered nipples. Pleasure strikes through me, straight to my core.
“You’re doing so well, my dirty girl.” He sounds pleased. “Think about how next time I’ll be the one touching you.”
I close my eyes, lost to the feel of my hands on my hot skin. I can feel the aching need twisting tight between my thighs as I press and squeeze my breasts.
I don’t think, just feel, but even in the haze of pleasure, I throb for something more. The teasing is becoming too much— I’ve been turned on all night and now that I’m so close...
My hand creeps lower, over my stomach. I have to ease the ache. I need to touch myself.
“No, darling. Stop that,” he orders. My hand stills. “No touching that juicy cunt. Not yet.”
It sounds like a challenge. Suddenly, the need to take control pulses through me.
“Come here and stop me,” I tease him. I slide my fingers lower, down over my soaking panties. I press lightly and gasp. God, that feels so good!
“I said stop.” His voice means business. “If you come before I say you can, then I’ll walk out right now and never come back.”
“What if I want to be in control this time?” I ask, nudging the lace aside. My fingers sink into the wetness, and fuck, I want to come right now.
“These are my rules, take them or leave them.” The reply is harsh. Then he softens. “Don’t you like giving in to my orders? Isn’t that what makes this such a thrill?”
I pause. He’s right. This is already the sexiest, most sensual experience of my life – and it’s all because he’s the one calling the shots. I just have to trust he’ll make this good for me. He’s already proven he can blow my mind without laying a single hand on me.
I pull my hand away, even though my body is screaming for more.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask.
The answer comes, thrillingly direct.
“Take off your clothes.”
THIRTEEN
I do as he says.
Carefully, I undo the sash and let my dress drop to the floor. I’m so turned on that even the feel of the fabric rippling over my skin makes me gasp with sensation.
“Beautiful…” his voice is smoky with desire. “Turn around, let me see you.”
I turn a slow circle, jutting my hip to show off my curves and the lace lingerie.
“Lay down on the couch now, and spread your legs.”
A shock of lust hits right between my thighs. I follow his order, arranging myself across the chaise lounge. It’s deliciously comfortable, the pillows propping my back up and putting me on display: my bra pushed down around my waist, and the scrap of thong underwear that doesn’t conceal anything at all.
From his position, hidden behind the grille, he can see all of me, but I can only glimpse the shape of his outline through the screen. He could be anyone.
This is so hot.
“You look beautiful like that, sweetheart,” he whispers, voice heated with lust. “I want to taste you.”
“Nothing’s stopping you,” I tease. I spread my thighs, showing him the view.
He lets out a dark groan. “None of that now, minx. This is all about watching you. Maybe next time.”
A thrill runs through me. Next time...
“Hook your ankle over the back of the couch. Put your other foot on the floor. I want to see everything.”
I follow his command. This experience feels surreal. So naughty. So hot. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I only know that I can’t stop.
“That’s it,” he breathes. “Perfect.”
I lay back, my head spinning. I have my legs spread wide. I’m completely open to him. Nothing is hidden.
God, I need to be touched.
As if he can hear my thoughts, he says, “Tell me how wet you are. Go on, touch.”
My fingers graze down my stomach and over my hip. I reach the band of lace on my panties then I pause.
“Don’t be shy, sweetheart,” he sounds amused. “Go ahead and stroke that tight little pussy for me. I know you’re dripping, begging for my cock to fill you up.”
I shudder. I want to surrender. I want to lose control.
My fingers roam lower. I slide across the wet fabric and dip lower, into the hollow of my cunt.
“There you go. Just like that,” he breathes, his voice huskier now.
The tip of my middle finger pushes the lace into my sensitive folds. It scrapes across my clit and I have to bite my lip to keep from gasping.
Yes!
“Don’t hold back. Let me hear you,” he orders. “Keep touching your breasts. Squeeze them while you rub that slick nub.”
His dirty words only make me hotter. I reach with one hand to pluck and twist at my puckered nipples while the other presses down against my clit. Heat crashes through me. I arch my back off the chaise and moan, desperate for more.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart? What do you need?” he asks.
“More. I need more,” I manage to gasp.
“Then take off your panties.”
I race to pull them off, carelessly tossing them to the floor. I spread my thighs wide again, hooking my ankle high on the back of the couch.
He can see every part of me and I don’t care. I want him to. I want him to see me with my bra bundled around my waist, my thighs and pussy slick with my own juices.
“What are you waiting for, darling? Give your dripping cunt what it needs.”
My hand trembles as I reach lower again. I slide my fingers over my clit, swollen and tender.
“Yes. Good girl. Stroke it soft. Just like that. Now move your hand, up and down. Harder.”
I follow his directions, running my fingers in circles around the sensitive nub, squeezing at my nipple with my other hand.
I’m lost in a haze of pleasure and pure lust. His voice washes over me, like he’s the one touching me instead.
“This is what you do to me. This craving you’re feeling right now. You drove me crazy at the club that night, you didn’t back down for a second. It was so fucking hot, watching you. The way you let me pleasure you, right in front of everyone.” His voice is hoarse now, panting as I stroke. “You liked it, didn’t you? Being forced to hide what a bad girl you are...”
I rub my clit harder, caught up in the heat. In the forbidden, dirty words he’s murmuring.
“Answer me,” he demands.
“I loved it,” I stutter, my voice shaking. God, I’m close. My body is rising, twisting under my frantic fingers. “It was good.” I pant, trying to catch my breath. “So good.”
“That’s my kinky girl,” he praises. “And how’s that sweet pussy now? Does it ache for your fingers? Does it need to be filled?”
“So much. Please...” I beg, gasping. I’ve never needed anything the way I need his cock right now. I can imagine it. Hard and deep, driving me over the edge.
“Not yet.”
I curse in frustration, but that just makes him laugh. “Slide lower, baby. Stroke your lips.”
I drag my fingers down to where I ache. I grind my palm against my clit and stroke my fingers along my entrance, caressing the hot wetness, impatient for more.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Imagine it’s my fingers touching you.”
I can hear my breathing turn rougher, feel my breasts move with each pant. God, it feels so good. But I need more. Why won’t he give me more?
“Now push your finger in deep, feel how much you want my cock.”
I moan with relief as I slide one finger inside. My walls clench hard around me, eager for more. I groan and shut my eyes.
This is so fucking hot. I’ve never been this turned on before. His voice, his orders make me burn.
“That’s right, finger yourself. Feel how soft and wet you are inside. Two fingers now, baby. Stretch that tight little cunt. ”
I slam the second finger inside me, feeling the friction ignite. My other hand drags along the slick leather of the couch, searching for somewhere to hold. I push my fingers further inside, fucking myself harder and deeper with my hand.
God, I’m close. My legs tighten, I can feel the shivers start in the base of my spine. I pump harder, desperate. I’m almost there...
“Stop.”
My whole body freezes.
“You know the rules. Or do you want this to end?”
I shake my head no. Absolutely not.
I lay there, strung out, so close to the edge. I can hear the couple still fucking in the room next door. Her loud cries and moans, his deep grunts, the headboard slamming against the wall as he works her over.
It’s pure torture.
“Do you hear that, sweetheart?” he teases me. “Would you like me to fuck you like that?”
“Yes,” I gasp, weak with need.
“I saw you watching them,” his voice slips through my bloodstream like a drug. “Did it excite you, seeing her get spanked? I know it did, it was written all over your face. Is that what you want, to be tied down, and shown who’s in charge?”
“Yes,” I whimper, past shame, past caring. All I feel is desire, hot in my veins. A desperate need.
“You don’t need a whip or handcuffs to know, I’m the one in control here.” His voice turns harder, so fucking sexy I could die. “I tell you how I want it, I tell you when. You don’t come until I say you can, is that clear.”
“Yes, yes. Please…” I gasp. I didn’t understand before, what would make those women beg the way they did. I thought it was just for show. But there’s nothing fake about the mindless need clawing low in my body, the way my pussy aches to be touched, filled, stretched wide open and fucked hard for days.
The silence stretches. God, it’s more than I can bear. I listen to the ecstasy of the couple behind the curtains and pray with everything I have that he puts me out of this misery, and soon.
Like an answer to my prayers, his voice comes again.
. “I want you to fuck yourself on your fingers until you come,” his voice echoes through the stillness. “Now.”
Heat rushes through me in a tidal wave and I nearly drown.
I thrust my fingers deep, grinding my palm against my clit and plunging over and over, riding the waves of pleasure higher and higher. I grip on for dear life, moaning as my body writhes on the couch. Fuck, I’m almost there.
“Do it, baby, stretch that tight little cunt wide open for me. Fill it up. Rub your clit until you come.”
The friction, the stretch, the heat, the grind, his voice, it all builds and builds until I’m crying out for release.
God, I’m almost there, but I need something more. I sob with frustration and need, until suddenly in the next room, a scream of ecstasy sounds. She’s coming; the sound of flesh slapping and male animal grunts echoes through the air, frenzied and totally out of control.
My body constricts. Oh, god!
“Come,” he commands. “Come for me.” And I break.
Pleasure slams through me from deep inside, white hot, rushing out to the tips of my fingers, the end of my toes. Every muscle goes taut as the waves crash through me, so intense I think I’m going to pass out. I hear another loud scream, and realize it’s my own voice, crying out with release as my body breaks apart.
When I surface, the room is still dark. Silence.
Holy shit! I’ve never come that hard in my life, not with a partner, and definitely not solo. Damn. That was a life affirming orgasm.
I stretch out, feeling my muscles glow with my climax. I feel fucking amazing. So satisfied. Who’d have guessed masturbation could get me off like that?
He did.
I sit up, looking over at the grille. I clear my throat. I don’t know what to call him.
“Uh, hello?” I ask.
There’s silence.
“Hello?” I call again. I get up on shaking legs and move closer, but there’s no shadowed silhouette behind the grille. The confessional space is empty.
He’s gone.