Red Hot Obsessions (167 page)

Play Room 2

Rae stood in the center of the dungeon, waiting for Wulf.

Play Room Two was another Spanish Inquisition-style dark dungeon, packed with undulating furniture and flickering fake candles. Lavender air freshener overlaid the sharp odor of leather cleaner.

He had taken her shoes when he left her there, and the rough tile chilled her toes. The equipment loomed over her. The Inquisition had locked people in cells with the instruments of their impending torture so they could think about what was going to happen to them in specific terms.

She didn’t know enough to imagine specifically. He might tie her standing to the upright rack or down to the iron rings on the floor.

The leather straps, the canes, and the cobra-like whips stood ready. One of those kinds of whips had left those welts on Glenda’s back. She must have been tied to bars or frames or furniture like these while someone whipped her.

Rae waited for a few more minutes, wishing that she had her phone to pass the time, but Wulf had taken that, too.

The door opened, and Wulf stepped in. He had removed his suit jacket and tie and rolled his white shirt sleeves up past his elbows, suggesting he was ready to work hard. Cords of muscle wrapped Wulf’s forearms. Even the little vee of his open shirt collar revealed swells of muscle rounding downward. He hadn’t taken off his jacket or shirt last night. She hadn’t seen his arms, or his torso, or his legs. His body was still a mystery to her, but it was anything like his lower arms, he was probably ripped.

None of her previous guys had been ripped. She kind of wanted to see if his muscles rippled under his shirt, just to see.

He gestured to the ceiling, where Rae noticed a black, shiny globe hanging amid the rough tiles, and then sliced the air with his hand, indicating something to be cut. Had he turned off the videocam feed that was supposed to keep her safe?

Wulf walked over to her, then around her, looking over her body. At first, she watched him, but he said, “Don’t move.”

Rae stared at the heavy, black door while Wulf inspected her like she was a piece of meat. Trembling started in her left leg.

Heat warmed the back of her neck. Rae realized that Wulf must be standing very close behind her, almost touching her. “I like your hair down,” he said and pulled the pins and scrunchie out of her bun. Her hair fell around her shoulders, curling from having been tightly wound. Her headache eased.

“That’s better,” he said, lifting her curls. Her head felt so much better from having her hair down, and her hair brushed the skin on the nape of her neck.

Wulf whispered into her ear, “First, what is your safe word?”

“Um, I don’t know.” Rae could barely concentrate on anything except his hands holding her hair and his breath warming her ear and neck.

“You haven’t chosen one. It’s not in your file.”

Rae should have noticed Bashful’s safe word
in his file
. That was why Wulf handed her
his
file
to read and was surprised at how little she read of it. “How about ‘Macbeth?’”

“Good. Our safe word is ‘Macbeth.’ The first rule of being a Domme in our establishment is that you never, ever have sex with the client. Men cannot submit while they’re fucking someone. A man immediately feels dominant, no matter how restrained he is.”

So he wasn’t going to have sex with her. Her apprehension turned into disappointment instead of relief.

One of his hands slipped from her hair and stroked her shoulder. She closed her eyes, feeling him so close.

“However, as I am the Dom and you are the sub in this game we are playing, we can, if you want, if you consent.”

Rae didn’t trust her voice. His mouth was so close to her ear and her neck. Wanting to touch him warred with the disgust of him thinking that she was, most literally, a whore.

Dang, she wanted to taste him again. She wanted his hands on her.

She wasn’t sure what to answer.

She had had sex for a lot of reasons in college, from it being expected on the third date or because it seemed like a good idea at the time, but this time, lust stirred in her body and was personal and directed. She wanted
him
, and she wanted to touch
him
.

“I will be touching you everywhere,” he said, and he stroked her black tee shirt over her ribs and then cupped her breasts through her bra. “I will be in control of you. You will be submitting to whatever I want. Do you want to add sex to that? Sometimes it can be overwhelming.”

He rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, barely pinching them through her clothes.

Her breath pushed her tits farther into his hands, and she couldn’t speak, so she nodded.
Yes,
she wanted him. After last night, she wanted more of him. Little aftershock orgasms ran through her when she thought of screwing him against the wall last night.

“Do you submit to me?” he asked her.

Wulf’s hands holding her tits commanded her full attention. He teased her, running his thumbs around her nipples, which hardened under his touch.

“You have to say yes,” he whispered in her ear.

“Yes,” she said, and her voice came out breathless.

“Yes, what?” he asked.

“Yes, I submit.”

His hands dropped to her belly and pressed her body through her suit. “You must call me ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’ in here. That was one mistake that you made with Irish Setter. He did not address you properly. You should have punished him for that infraction. He was begging you to enforce the rules.”

Calling him ‘Sir’ reminded Rae of when she was a child and her parents made sure that she called all adults ‘Sir’ or ‘Ma’am.’ She didn’t want to feel like a child. “Yes, Master.”

“Excellent.” He grabbed her body and forced her hips back against his pelvis. She gasped from surprise. Through their clothes, his erection felt like a hard rod against her ass. “Let’s get some of these clothes off of you.”

He stepped back and stripped her suit coat and the black tee shirt off of her, so that only her bra and skirt were left, and her panties, of course. The dungeon, or
play room
as he called it, was cooler than she had thought, and her nipples tightened under the black lace of her bra.

Wulf walked around her again. Rae looked away, ashamed in the way that all women are ashamed about
something
about their bodies, even if they hide it under bravura.

“No, no,” Wulf said. “Look up. I did not give you permission to look away.”

Rae resumed staring at the door. She pulled her shoulders back to perk up her breasts.

“Very nice,” Wulf said. “You would make a lovely sub, sitting at my feet, wearing nothing but a gold collar.”

Rae’s face heated at that image of herself.

Wulf laughed at her blush. “You
would
make a beautiful, naked sub. Consider your breasts.” He ran a riding crop around the lace-covered swell. Again, the riding crop had appeared in his hand. Did he stuff them up his sleeves or something? “They are beautiful. Magnificent. Hiding them should be punished.”

He tucked his riding crop under his arm and lifted both of her tits again, reminding Rae of last night, when he had sucked them like he wanted to eat them. “One of these days, we’ll discuss your breasts further, in great and succulent detail.” He relinquished them gently, perhaps reluctantly.

“Today is a lesson, not play time,” he said as if reminding himself. His hand pressed her shoulder, and her knees buckled. “On your knees.”

Rae lowered herself to her knees, embarrassed at how ungainly she felt. She stood on her knees, like she was praying in church and resting her arms on the back of the pew in front of her.

“No,” Wulf said. “Back.” He touched the riding crop to her breastbone and rocked her back. Her butt rested on her heels. “Better.”

Rae looked up at him, standing over her. His navy pants rose so far above her to his silver belt buckle. His white shirt lay flat over his abs, and he glared at her from far above the bulges of his pecs. Subs felt helpless like this. Why would anyone enjoy being so defenseless?

With his toe, Wulf spread her knees apart, stretching her skirt and opening her pussy. “Better still. This is the basic submissive position. This is how a sub should rest when awaiting orders from her Dom. Understand?”

Rae nodded. The tile scraped her knees and the tops of her feet. The dungeon’s cold air cooled her panties, and she realized that she was moist down there. Her body was responding to him even though this submission thing scared her.

“In general, beginning a session in the sub position allows the sub to relax and give up control. At this time, you can leave them and select your equipment.” Wulf went over to the glassed cabinet, which was behind Rae, and glass rattled back there as he opened the cabinet doors.

Rae stared at the black, carved wood of the door, her only escape, and waited.

Rae tried to hear what he was doing behind her. She tried to see out of the corners of her eyes, but she figured that turning her head wasn’t allowed so she couldn’t see what those scraping sounds like metal on wood were.

Wulf hummed like he was considering something.

He wasn’t choosing chocolate or vanilla ice cream, dang it. He was selecting a weapon to beat her with. She wished he would get on with it.

A sound like slapping echoed off the walls. She heard another slapping sound, higher and sharper this time, then something that sounded like a bunch of hands pattering.

Rae wanted to scream at him to
pick something!
so she could stop being scared of which freaking whip he was going to choose.

Oh,
and Rae understood a little better. Suspense was good for the sub. He was drawing it out on purpose. For all her nervousness about being in a dungeon with a whip-wielding Wulf, she was beginning to understand a Domme’s job: keep your client on pins and needles until you started beating them with whips.

Crack,
and Rae knew that sound from movies. Only a bullwhip made a crack like that.

That door might be locked. If she jumped up, she might not be able to get away.

Crack,
and the next whipcrack popped right above her head. She flinched. Sweet Jesus, he was going to use the bullwhip on her just like she had been going to on Bashful.

Behind her, Wulf said, “Perhaps not that one.”

Rae sagged forward, relieved.

“Don’t slouch,” he said. “Slouching is unattractive in a sub.”

She straightened and pulled her shoulders back again, pushing out her breasts.

“Better.”

Classical music, something with sweet violins, began to play. Rae hadn’t known there were speakers in the walls. Chamber music. Chamber of Horrors music. Chamber of Pain and Punishment music.

Footsteps tapped toward her. He was still wearing his shoes. “Stand.”

She swayed to her feet and nearly groaned as blood rushed into her cold feet.

“Come. Stand here.” Wulf was beside and a little behind her, so she still couldn’t see what whip he was holding. He motioned to a wooden square frame that was taller than she was.

She stood in front of it and turned to face him. In his hand, Wulf held a long whip with many tails sprouting from it. Her nerves jangled again, and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath from just looking at that menacing thing.

“No,” he said. “Turn around.”

“I don’t want it to hurt, Master,” Rae blurted, ashamed to admit that she didn’t want to partake of what everyone around here seemed to like, but that whip freaked her out.

“A sub who is ambivalent and yet consents,” Wulf mused. He stroked her face as she looked up at him. “You fascinate me, Reagan. I could play with you for hours.” His hand drifted lower, outlining her breasts, and his palm slid down her ribs to the waistband of her skirt. “Turn around.”

She turned her back to him and held her breath, trying to stay calm. Past the frame, so close up, the rocks on the wall looked artificial. The crags stood out in a five-pointed pattern.

“We can take this off, too.” Wulf popped the clasp on her bra. The lace bits slid down her arms and fell to her bare feet. Her tits swung free, and she resisted the urge to cover herself with her arms to hide them. Shame was so ingrained in her head that it felt inescapable.

Wulf stood behind her again, and his hands touched her body, gently at first, then his hands firmed and he rubbed her. A trace of warm cologne like cinnamon-spiced tea and clean sheets emanated from inside his shirt when he moved. He massaged her shoulders and arms, working out the fearful tension there, but his hands kept returning to her breasts to hold them and rub his thumbs over her nipples. Her breath caught every time he did that, and she wanted to lean against him so she could feel his cock against her ass again, but that might violate his rules, and then he might whip her.

His breathing near her ear quickened. “For most of our clients, pain and pleasure have become entangled. They both feel good.” He kissed her bare shoulder, and her skin puckered where his lips sucked. He mouthed and nipped her neck. The spark of pain caught Rae by surprise, but as soon as the twinge on her neck registered, Wulf pinched her nipples harder, and she gasped twice, shocked. When he released her, a wave of pleasure washed though her body.

He ran his hands up her sides, stroking the skin over her ribs up to her breasts. The undersides of her breasts tickled when he stroked them.

He said, “Just like some people like spicy food.”

Rae nodded. She could understand an attraction to fiery salsa.

His hands soothed her skin and yet made her ache for more of him, and his palms slipping over her body were so fascinating that she didn’t really notice what he was doing.

He lifted her arms in the air. The sweet violin music lilted in the air, and her body swayed against his hands like they were waltzing.

Wulf said, “Ah, then you understand. Why would anyone eat food that hurts them?”

Rae traced the polished wood of the frame with her hands, and she answered without thinking. “Because it burns so good, Master.”

“Yes, that’s it,” Wulf murmured.

Rae’s fingers found cold metal handles on the frame.