“The woodland’s silent smile where flowers raise their heads and Venus bids you welcome. Loose your girdle, come to bed. Indulge yourself. Give in to love.”
Tiberianus,
Vigil Of Venus
Kitten
The Oasis is crowded, more members on one night than I can remember seeing in a very long time. Every table is filled, the curtained bed spaces as well. It doesn’t dawn on me why until I see the holiday decorations. No doubt Valentine’s day is the culprit, confirmed when Cupid shows up. Painted silver and wearing only a leather and brass codpiece, he totes a bow and arrows and tosses shiny confetti on anything and every person he passes.
Oh
,
joy. Love is in the air
.
Or at least lust. Spontaneous play erupts in his wake, spankings, floggings, sex…
Even Jackie, alone so many evenings of late, has a new pet at her feet. It bothers me she never told me what happened between her and Bernard, or never mentioned this new guy. I thought we were best friends.
Damn it, I miss Bernard
.
He was short and slightly pudgy. I’ve cuddled against him more evenings than I can remember while Garrett and Jackie shared a meal. We never spoke. I knew nothing about him, but I felt we were friends even if only as silent pillow mates reclining at our Masters’ feet.
I look over her new pet with disgust. He is an Adonis. Tall, almost as tall as her, or so I guess by the sheer length of him. I haven’t seen him stand and walk. I’ve only seen him crawl, led by a leash, milking the attention he earns with every sashay of his perfectly chiseled, ivory glutes. Do I sound jealous?
I am not jealous
.
From the cushion at Jackie’s feet, he sits up straight, surveying the room, looking regal and proud. Her hand rests lightly on the top of his head. I have to admit they are a striking pair, her so very dark, he so very light.
She has her hair styled as she did the first time I saw her, a platinum blond wig wrapped in an elaborate French twist, which captures her classic elegance perfectly and makes her long, graceful neck seem even more dramatic. Her beauty never ceases to overwhelm me, the she that was once a he, so much more feminine than I shall ever be. She is dark skinned, a pure, deep russet. She has almond-shaped brown eyes, made even larger and more dramatic by her false eyelashes. Her full, sensual lips are artistically lined and filled with a slick, glossy lipstick.
She is wearing white leather.
I smile knowing Garrett detests the sight of a Domme or Dominant wearing white. I wonder what he would say about Jackie. He couldn’t say she is any less than stunning.
I realize that she is different tonight because she is exactly the same as the day I met her so long ago. She is utterly charismatic. There has been something missing of late, more than just her pet, Bernard, a sparkle in her eyes that is suddenly back.
I take a closer look at the new pet, still not certain if he is canine or feline, but I’m guessing cat. He’s too fucking posed for a mutt. I narrow my gaze. I’m the one who perfected the feline persona around here.
His hair is cropped short, a military cut, and jet black. He is pale, pale white, or maybe it is only the contrast of being so close to her. I think his eyes are blue, too light to be any other color, but I refuse to crawl closer to get a better look. Nude, he is perfectly toned, pure muscle. I could imagine him on a stage, oiled and posing.
He doesn’t seem like Jackie’s type, maybe because he is so perfect, but seeing them together, I can’t look away. Their beauty as a couple is breathtaking.
I crawl under the table, waiting for my Master to claim me, knowing he won’t.
God, I hate Valentine’s Day.
I’ve never been one to put too much stock in the holiday. Before Master there were no hot dates or roses or boxes of chocolate. Now, I have two Masters and neither are here for me to lavish attention upon. I try to not remember last year, which seemed so perfect. We didn’t make it to the club at all, though we’d had every intention…
It had started with a meal. Master will use any excuse he can to whip up culinary delights and our ménage was so brand new, it demanded extravagance. Raw oysters followed by prime rib followed by decadent chocolate-dipped strawberries.
Lord Fyre had drawn me a bubble bath and bathed me.
Both of my men had pampered me so thoroughly, I’d felt like a queen…and this year, I sit alone. I wonder if either of them even realize what day it is?
Suddenly, I see Master, riding in the glass elevator with a blond man. My mind flashes back to a week before.
Déjà vu
? Or did that really happen? It must have. I remember the man so clearly…think,
think
…the day Master missed the doctor’s appointment. Yes, because I remember the lust on Master’s face vividly.
Screw this.
I follow them, but they are already sequestered in a private room. It isn’t one of the suites usually reserved by guests because of its elaborate nature. It’s expensive. Lord Fyre always called it the Room of Devices. Iron head cages and manacles, mostly mechanical props, the only time I was ever in the room I knew it was too extreme for my taste. I can’t even imagine as I pace outside the door, wondering how long a normal session is.
My chest is heaving with emotion, my breath heavy as I try to calm down.
This is nothing new
.
Master is with clients every day. The difference is that now he isn’t playing with me every day…and I’ve never considered he might be
enjoying
himself. The lust I saw in his eyes chokes me as I press my back against the corridor’s wall, staring at the closed door. I slide down the wall, sitting, waiting, not believing I am sitting alone in a dark hallway on Valentine’s Day?
* * * *
Dreaming is the best part of the day, especially when Lord Fyre joins me. Except my tailbone hurts too much for this to be a pleasant dream. I shift my weight, realizing I am still sitting in the hallway outside of Attic Room number eight, Garrett is still inside with his client and Thomas really is striding toward me. He is smiling widely.
He’s back!
My heart leaps but I’m afraid to hope.
I try to stand, but my legs are asleep. Seeing my grimace, Thomas hurries to my side.
“Wait, I’ll help you.” He holds out his hand, lending support as I stand. Seeing my itty-bitty baby bump he whistles and cups its contour. “
Now
you’re starting to look pregnant.”
I make a face and he lifts my chin gently.
His smile is gone as he traces the tracks of dried tears on my cheeks. “What’s this?”
“I’m fat, it’s Valentine’s Day.” I cross my arms. “And I’m all alone.”
He kisses my temple. “You aren’t alone
now
. The night is yours, sweet valentine.”
My arms go around his neck. “Hurt me.” The words are out of my mouth before I even realize I’ve said them. He pulls away from me to gaze deeply into my eyes and I tell him, “Watching everyone else play is the worst torture.”
He hugs me close, but before he does I see the dark shadow fall across his face that tells me he is angry. Not at me, or he wouldn’t be hugging me.
“God, I’ve missed you.”
“I have missed you,” he assures me, his voice full of emotion. He hugs me tighter. “I want to be alone with you.”
I think he might lead me to one of the play rooms but he doesn’t. We go down to Garrett’s office, where he closes and locks the door. It is a large room. Garrett’s desk, file cabinets, and general business-related clutter taking a large chunk of the corner, a few tall, lush plants in front of the window and on the far wall a leather sofa. Thomas leads me to the sofa but neither of us sits. He caresses me. Face. Shoulders. Arms. Breasts. Belly. He pays extra attention to the baby bump, circling it with his fingertips. “Have you felt them move?”
“Yes. Garrett doesn’t believe me, but I feel them all of the time now.”
Squatting in front of me, he kisses my belly lightly. “I believe you.”
He continues stroking my stomach and watching his expression fills a void I didn’t understand was there until this moment. I want…I
need
…someone to share this pregnancy with and Garrett has been a real disappointment.
God, did I just think that?
Yes, yes I did. For a man who was all about the baby—marriage, family, and living in suburbia—he has shown a distinct disinterest. Watching Thomas stroke my belly, I wish I knew what he was thinking.
“Do you want me to hurt you now?”
I’m startled by his question as our gazes meet, so much so my heart skips a beat and my pussy clenches. “Yes. Please, Lord Fyre.”
His hands slide over my waist then up, finding the sweet spot between my ribs. His fingers dig in between the bone and it is instant agony. I dance on tiptoe, instinctively trying to escape the pain, though honestly that’s the last thing I want. “Oh. Oh!” I am trying to not scream. “Fuck.”
He slowly releases me and within seconds it is as if the pain was never there because it does not linger. He strokes my face and kisses me. A second later, pain arcs down my spine and I realize he has attached a nipple clamp. He must have had them in his pants pocket. Don’t all good Dominants stay so prepared? Maybe just my Lord Fyre.
He kisses me again, lingering over my lips teasingly, and although I know the second jolt of pain is coming and think I am prepared, the shock almost takes me to my knees. I moan against his mouth.
“Your nipples are very sensitive now that you are pregnant.”
Holy
m
other of God.
“Kneel.”
I drop to my knees and bow forward as much as my new shape allows. Stepping back, he looks at me. I close my eyes, soaking in the moment, soaking in his appreciation of my obeisance. “You are so beautiful, Sophia. Are you comfortable?”
I nod but he instructs me to change position. “Fold over the couch.”
I do as I’m told, crawling to the couch and then laying only my upper body over the seat, arms folded above my head as I press my face to the cushions. The position lifts my bottom, exposing my genitals to him and I am very conscious of that fact when he commands, “Arch your back.”
Arching makes raw need speed through my center.
He bends to slide his fingers through my wetness. “It seems pain isn’t the only thing you need, Sophia.”
I don’t answer, believing it was a rhetorical question.
A sharp stab of pain through my labia makes me gasp as he attaches several clips. “I know you are probably craving more extreme play, but hopefully this will take the edge off.”
Kneeling behind me, he leans over me. He is still completely clothed, and I enjoy the sensation of his shirt and pants rubbing against my skin. He caresses me as when we were standing, sliding his hands over my shoulders, my arms, my back. He massages my ass and thighs. The gentleness is such direct contrast to the pain inflicted on my nipples and genitals; it is quite a mind fuck. I know he will pull the clamps off and as much as I am enjoying the massage, I stay tense, waiting for the jolt I know comes.
He kisses my shoulder, leaning some of his weight over my back as he opens his pants enough to withdraw his erection. His stiff penis bumps against my thigh.
Yes, fuck me.
My hips rise, wanting so badly.
“Patience.” He chuckles, then allows his stiff member to slide between my legs, not penetrating, just teasing.
Oh God.
He flicks off one of the nipple clamps and pain overtakes all thought. “Ahhh!”
He rubs my breast, cupping it, squeezing it, before massaging my other breast in much the same way, though he leaves the clamp attached. Waiting for me to relax so that the pain will be another shock.
Just do it. Do it. Do it. Do it.
He slides inside of me and I close my eyes the sensation is so sweet. I’ve missed Lord Fyre. I’ve missed having his cock in my pussy. I push back into him, enjoying the sensation, the clamps still attached to my nipple and labia only a small distraction.
He moves in me, building my need to a plateau…and pops off the nipple clamp.
“Ahhh!”
He keeps riding me, kneading both breasts.
Oh God,
o
h God
.
He knows the exact moment I start to orgasm and I try so hard to not let him know. I expect he will start tugging at the labia clamps, but he doesn’t. Not during the rise of pleasure. Not as I fall. I am panting, he thrusting hard, harder. It is as his need spirals up that he starts pulling off the clamps and my yelps of pain shoots him over the edge.
“Recollections of the past and visions of the present come to bear me company; the meanest man to whom I have ever given alms appears, to add his mite of peace and comfort to my stock; and whenever the fire within me shall grow cold, to light my path upon this earth no more, I pray that it may be at such an hour as this, and when I love the world as well as I do now.”
Charles Dickens,
Master Humphrey’s Clock
Garrett
Hillary is waiting impatiently outside of Room Eight when I come out. She holds a clipboard and is tapping her pen on its hard edge. Not knowing the exact time, but guessing, she should have finished her shift hours ago. A good employee, she remains silent as I walk Dean to check-out and discover we just spent three hours together. He doesn’t even blink when he’s presented the bill. While his credit card is being processed, I help him schedule another session. I shouldn’t. I’m enjoying our sessions together entirely more than is appropriate. I’m looking forward to our next session. Giving him a final pat on the shoulder, I escort him to the elevator. As soon as the doors close I ask Hillary, “Is there a problem?”
“No problem, Sir. I was asked by Lord Fyre to wait for you to come out and ask you to join him in your office.”
Thomas is here. Now?
“And Kitten? Is she still in The Oasis?”