“Yes, Master.”
Very much.
“Would you like to keep it?”
She wasn’t sure where she could wear it, but she did. “Yes.”
“Then take it off.”
“Master?”
“You heard me.” He reached in his pocket and showed her an odd device that had holes for his fingers and a hook with a razor blade on the inside. “This is for cutting rope in an emergency. It will slice your dress in one easy stroke without risking damage to your lovely skin. Up to you.”
When he had told her that she was only wearing the dress until she got to the club before, it had seemed so far away. But she knew if she hesitated, he really would cut the dress off, so she grabbed the hem and yanked upward.
“I also value your delicious body.”
She barely got the dress off before his arms were around her, and he was kissing her deeply. She didn’t object one bit when his hand drifted downward from behind her waist to settle on the lower curve of her bare ass. “And I’m going to play with it tonight. I’m going to drive you mad with desire.”
No, you aren’t.
But she was lying to herself. His touch had an effect on her and so did his words. He put a hand between her legs and felt her still-smooth mound. She knew what he would find in a moment, and she didn’t need his words to confirm it.
“You’re wet, slave girl. Very wet.”
“It was the dress, Master,” she lied.
He chuckled. “Did you know that when I’m touching you and I can feel your pulse, I can tell when you aren’t telling me the whole truth?”
“I’ll have to be careful, then.” She wanted to be able to have some mystery.
“It doesn’t work with everyone. But some people can’t control their tells. Never, ever play poker for serious money, Sophia.”
She knew better than to do that. She took a breath.
“I’m going to take you deep, Sophia. I don’t have a right to, but I’m going to anyway, because I think it’s where we both need to go. This will be hard. Are you ready to obey?”
Her heart beat faster. What was he going to have her do? Was he trying to seduce her for his month-long contract, or was he just making sure she had a night to remember?
Maybe I should tell him to focus on the latter.
But instead she simply said what he expected. “Yes, Master.”
“Good. Did you get spanked for your last birthday, slave girl?”
She giggled. “Um, no.”
He pointed to a piece of furniture. It was made of wood, with rings on the sides and padded places covered with black leather. “That’s a spanking bench, and that’s where we’ll play. There are cleaning supplies on the table to the right of it.” The table was very close to a cross where two women were playing with each other. “Get two of the bleach wipes and wipe down that spanking bench over there. Rather than kneeling next to it, as I had you do at the ranch, straddle it and put your ass up in the air and wait for me.”
“I’ll be very, um, on display, Master. Are you sure?”
“Yes.” He picked up his bag and walked over there. She couldn’t tell if he was angry or not. Usually, she found his calmness reassuring, but this time, it felt almost cold. And what he’d asked her to do was far more exposure than she’d expected. Naked was one thing, but the black leather spanking bench he’d pointed out would spread her legs, possibly expose her pussy. She didn’t want anyone getting ideas—well, anyone but Colby.
“Master,” she said. “Please.” She was a mix of emotions, and she wasn’t even sure what she was asking him for.
Tell me you feel like I do.
He stopped. “Please what?”
“Where will you be?” she asked instead. It was safer.
“I will be at the bar, talking to an old friend, until I decide that you’ve waited the right amount of time. I’ll be watching you. I’ll be enjoying watching you. I might even be talking about you. Now go.” He dropped his bag next to the spanking bench and turned to go to the bar. There was a man there who was dressed like a younger version of Colby as she’d first seen him. He looked like a nice guy, although she’d learned she couldn’t trust her instincts in that regard. It didn’t matter.
Talking about me.
A blush came to her face, and she realized that was probably his intent. He liked to embarrass her a little and keep her guessing. Anticipating. She noted he’d promised to drive her mad with desire, which didn’t sound like she’d necessarily even get to come.
And what is fucked up about me that the idea of him teasing me endlessly makes me wetter than if he’d promised to give me five orgasms with that crazy vibrator of his?
Because I like his attention. And now he’s withholding even that, going and talking to that man. It isn’t like him, really
. He always set everything up in the hotel room, and when she offered to help put away rope or something, he told her to stay still and look decorative. So having her clean the equipment before they played was very odd indeed. Maybe it was a sign he couldn’t be bothered, since it was their last day.
Or maybe he trusts me now to do a good job with what he asks of me.
She took as much time as she could wiping the bench down, trying to put off the amount of time she’d be spending alone with her ass up in the air. She noticed there was a ridge in the middle of the bench that would rub against her pussy if she straddled it, but the cushions for her knees and forearms were well padded. There were little eyebolts for rope or cuffs. She loved the sensation of his rope and the feeling of not being able to get away. It let her surrender the responsible part of herself and enjoy what he did to her. Even though she had a safe word, it helped her imagine she had no choice.
At last she couldn’t stall any longer. She looked toward the bar, but he was still talking. There were two clear bottles of water next to him, but he wasn’t drinking any. And he was looking straight at her, as was his friend.
It’s not that he can’t be bothered. He wants me to feel watched. He’s setting this all up exactly as he wants it, like the sadist he is.
She mounted the horse. If she knelt up just a little, her pussy would be covered, but if she leaned forward and balanced on her forearms or even her hands, she was certain she’d be exposed. He’d like that, and he’d have a perfect view. So would the guy at the bar. So would anyone else who happened to order a drink, and people were continuing to enter the club.
She looked over at him again. He made a little hand gesture that looked to her like the arc of a dolphin jumping above the water, but its meaning was clear enough. She sighed and let her weight fall. Her breasts squished against the cool leather, but the position was a lot more comfortable, with her weight distributed across shins, forearms, chest, and pubic bone. The air of the club caressed the lips of her pussy, making it impossible for her to pretend she might be concealed.
I hope you’re enjoying the view, Master. And I hope there are other things to look at in the club for everyone else.
She waited.
He really is my Master. Maybe he sensed that my mood wasn’t right and is letting me get into it. That my love is getting in the way of my submission.
If so, what he was doing was working. She wanted to be present for one last night, at least. Wanted to be his slave girl. Wanted everything he would do to her. Of course she wanted more. She wanted him not to leave, but that was impractical. She wanted his collar. She wanted him to tell her that he owned her.
I’m still a free spirit. I’m just making an exception for him.
I want him to love me too.
The thought came unbidden, and she pushed it aside with mental force.
I’m not a lover. I’m property. All I need is for him to care enough to keep me safe. Love is a lie anyway. Now that’s a thought that will keep my heart in one piece.
It was hard to look back, so she stopped trying, even when she thought she heard his boots on the concrete floor.
“Good girl,” he said. She felt his hand on the small of her back, and her jumbled-up thoughts faded and were replaced by pure contentment. His touch was calming, and he’d been training her to respond to it, to become fully present in the moment when she felt his hand.
“Usually when I spank you or flog you, I bind you so that you will have no trouble staying still. This time will be different. I was testing you just now, and I think you’re ready. No matter what I do, I want you to stay there for me and take what I choose to give you.”
She took a deep breath. Sexy and scary all at once. Then again, that pretty much defined Colby. “What are you going to use on me, Master?”
“Believe it or not, that is partially up to you.” He took out a blanket and unrolled it on the floor in front of her. Inside was a flogger that she knew was gentle. A leather paddle. A long black riding crop. A slightly bent wooden cane. The last one scared her.
“Pick,” he told her.
“What if I want them all?” She was stalling for time, trying to still the fear in her heart. This might very well be her last chance to experience all of this. Even if she sought out another dom, it would take a long time to establish the kind of trust she had with Colby. She didn’t have the time for that with everything else going on in her life.
“No. You may have just one, or all but one, but you must make a choice.”
She looked at them. The flogger was warm, comfortable. So that one was in. Which of the others would she exclude? She dreaded them all, although the paddle might not be too bad. And yet she’d go home wondering what one felt like, and she didn’t want to do that. “Sorry I’m taking so long, Master.”
“Take all the time you need. You’re providing me and everyone else with a lovely view while you’re doing it.”
Ugh.
She looked through them again.
I want it all.
What had seemed clear was now less so, and she took advantage of a momentary feeling of resolution, because she knew she would never want to decide. “The flogger, Master.”
“The flogger it is.” He picked it up from the blanket and moved behind her.
He thinks I want just the flogger. I’m surprised he’s keeping the disappointment out of his voice. But I want so badly to please him.
“No, Master. I mean everything but.”
“Are you certain?” He asked the question with his hard voice, the one that demanded a response.
“Yes.”
She heard the sound of the flogger being tossed back into or on the bag.
“In that case, we will start with my hand.”
“Yes, Master. Don’t hold back.”
Now why did I say that?
“There will be marks if I don’t.”
Bruises.
The cane scared her. But she wanted something to remember him by. She wanted to be able to sit down and feel him after he had gone, to let go of him gradually as the sensations faded rather than all at once at the end of the night. “Yes, Master, please.”
His hand caressed her ass. She tried to focus on just what he was doing and not what was to come. That became easier with the first stinging slap.
“Do you need me to count, Master?”
“No. I will. One. You remember to breathe.”
“You know I’m only twenty-eight.” She didn’t think that was remotely credible, but she felt like being a brat. And if it eased up on the number of strokes she got, that might be a good thing.
“You know I’ve seen your driver’s license when you showed it for drinks that one time. But since you want extra strokes for an obvious lie, I’ll give them to you. In fact, I won’t count at all.”
Rebelliously, she counted in her head. He was at about nineteen when he stopped to stroke her pussy, and by that time, she no longer cared who might be watching. Her ass felt warm from his swats. She pressed back into his hand with greediness, hoping she’d be allowed to come, almost sure she wouldn’t be. Sure enough, he stopped.
He walked around her and picked up the cane.
That’s next?
She was pretty sure he’d arranged them on the blanket in order of severity, and the cane was surely the worst.
He tapped it on her bottom with surprising gentleness. He’s just getting the range. Marking where he’s going to hit. Her ass tensed waiting for him to deliver a hard stroke, but it didn’t come.
Tap, tap, tap.
A man walked a woman in front of her on a leash, and she was momentarily distracted. She wondered what that would be like. Humiliating, maybe. And yet she craved it. Craved him to tell everyone that she was his, to collar her, leash her. Because then he would be hers as well. It was so impractical but so hot. She knew the deeper she went, the more it would hurt when she stopped, but she wanted to experience it all.
“I want that, Master,” she said.
“You’re not ready. This is not a race.” The tapping stopped. She heard him rummage in his bag.
He doesn’t realize we don’t have time. That it really is a race.
She should probably tell him, but she wanted to pretend it wasn’t true and enjoy the moment as if it might last forever. She felt a sadness coming on.
Was he reaching back in his bag for the flogger? Had he decided she wasn’t ready for the rest? He tugged on her hair and lifted her head. He wrapped a blindfold around it.
Ah. He just doesn’t want me being distracted.
It gave her a momentary sense of calm.
He ran his hand over her back, up, and then down. He brought it to rest on the small of her back, a comforting presence. Then she felt a sting in her ass that spread over the whole area. The paddle was the only thing with that broad an impact. Bereft of sight, it felt even more intense.
She lost count. As the swats melded together, her ass heated up. She felt like she was almost floating, but she was still aware of everything he was doing as he moved around her, paddling her from different angles. Something held her back from the blissful flight she had learned to experience and savor.
She felt his hand run up her back, and she knew that meant he was probably getting another toy. The crop, probably. The hand drifted back down, and as expected, she felt him drag the rough leather of the shaft across her stinging and probably reddened backside. Her pussy was tingling, and she felt like he could make her come in a minute if he cared to. Maybe seconds. He removed his hand from her back.