Sexy as Hell Box Set (34 page)

The door clicked, eased open an inch or two, and the time for feeling good about what I had made happen was over. I pushed through into the building, glancing around for Zara, only to find Fifi sitting behind the desk in the otherwise empty reception. My heart sank a little, but I managed a smile as I closed the door behind me.

“Well hello, Virgin,”
Fifi said, leaning back in her chair and running one fingernail over her bottom lip.

She was another who was self-assured, I’d bet. She exuded I-know-what-I-want-and-I’ll-always-get-it—something that would have been off-putting to me this time last week. Now, though, now I was attracted—not to her, but to that attitude.

Zara had fairly ruined me for any delicate women—then again, that was my submissive side talking. The Master…well, he wanted something altogether different.

“Hello,” I said, ignoring the pet name which, I suspected, they all used when or if they discussed me. “Zara about?”

Fifi nodded. “She is, but she said for you to go straight to room four.”

“Is that because it’s the only empty one, or does she always prefer her men to use it?” I had no idea where that had come from, or why I needed to know the answer.

“She doesn’t usually bring
anyone
she sleeps with here. But if I were to guess, I’d say because four and five are the rooms in the centre of the row. Best seats in the house, so to speak.”

She smiled and appeared to be examining me from head to toe. I thought of my skinny jeans and wondered if she was laughing inside about them.

“On you go, then,” she said. “Doesn’t do to keep her waiting.”

“No,” I said, “quite.”

I left reception and, in the corridor, took a moment to steady my breathing. My cheeks raged hot—Fifi’s scrutiny had got to me more than I would have liked—and I battled the urge to quickly go home and change. Then a wave of assuredness went through me. No, it didn’t matter
what
I was wearing. The room would be dark anyway and Zara might not even notice.

I knocked on door four and waited for her call.

“Enter,” she said, her voice stern.

Oh. She was in one of
those
moods, was she?

I took a deep breath and went inside, my hand still on the handle, the door still open.

She stood with her back to me, staring at the closed-off viewing window. Via the light from the corridor spilling in, I got a muted vision of her—but I’d know her even in pitch darkness. She seemed a bit…tense; I felt it coming off her, surrounding me and giving me thoughts that she was unhappy. I didn’t like it so opened my mouth to ask her if anything was wrong, but she beat me to it by raising her hand.

“Tonight is special, Victor,” she said, too briskly for my liking.

Had there been a knife-sharp edge to her tone then, or had it been my imagination? I frowned, almost let the door close then changed my mind. If she turned, I wanted to be able to see her face, to read the expression there.

“Tonight’s show is…” She sighed. “Is the final curtain.”

What did she mean? Was this the last show I’d have to watch before she taught me other things on a one-to-one basis? Again I opened my mouth to ask her, but she snapped out, “Oh, shut the bloody door!”

I released it, the click of it closing bringing the darkness I’d wanted in which to hide my jeans—and what I hadn’t wanted to hide her face. I blinked, waiting for my eyes to adjust—that one wall light with the reddish glow didn’t give much illumination—and she swivelled to face me. Walked around one of the bucket chairs to stand in front of me. Placed her little hands on my shoulders, the heat from them sending sexual messages to my cock.

“So,” she said, pushing down on my shoulders. “I suggest you get on your knees. We have a few moments before the show starts.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I said, lowering, wondering what on earth she was going to do to me.

“I had wanted to save this until the very last, Victor, but things have changed—we’ve changed—and I really do think you’re in the right frame of mind now to obey the very first instruction I ever gave you.”

I stared at her naked mid-section. The hem of her top reached just above her navel, and her short skirt waistband hung low on her hips. I resisted the need to dash my tongue out and lick her skin.

“Do
you
think you’re ready?” she asked.

I looked up at her face, her skin rosy-hued from the lighting. A tiny smile played on her lips—wistful, I would call it—or it could be taken another way…that she cared about me. As I stared up at her I had nothing on my mind except drinking in the sight of her, so her first ever instruction didn’t enter my mind.

“Lick my cunt,” she said.

And then it all came tumbling back. My shock and horror when she’d said it back then, how I hadn’t been able to stand her bluntness, her raw sexuality. Now, though, now was a different matter. My cock hardened, and I was more than ready to obey.

I slid my hands up her legs and beneath her skirt, pushing the fabric high so it exposed her naked cunt. Splaying my fingers over her arse cheeks, I looked down to see her pussy was lit only on one side, the other in darkness. My imagination had no trouble working these days, so I could see the whole of it in my mind’s eye. I dipped my head, the scent of her growing stronger the lower I went, and pressed my mouth to the fleshy pad above her slit. Breathed deeply. She smelt divine, my Zara, and it was an aroma I never wanted to forget. Brushing my mouth downwards until my lips covered hers, I slid my tongue out, laving from the bottom to the top. Her clit was soft yet hard, and as I dragged my tongue down again I couldn’t wait to lick back up to tease her clit for longer. Make her come, bucking against my face.

“That’s enough,” she said, stepping back so I had no choice but to let go of her arse.

Confused, and with the taste of her still popping on my tongue, I reached out to pull her to me. She took another step away.

“Oh, come on,” I said, needing to plant my mouth back on her wet slit. “Don’t be a tease.”

“I can be whatever I want to be,” she said. “After all, I’m your Mistress, and you will do what I want. If I say that’s enough, then it’s enough.”

“But I—”

“Quiet,” she said. “I only wanted to see if you would obey.”

I remained on my knees, even though I wanted to get up, to tower over her to regain some dignity. She’d given then denied, but if I questioned her decision further she’d no doubt go on about it being a Mistress’ right.

“I obeyed, but I wish, Mistress, that you would let me finish what I’d barely started. I’ve been wanting to do that for ages now, knew you’d been keeping the pleasure from me out of some kind of lesson…” I smiled then laughed a bit. “That’s what’s going on, isn’t it. You’re teaching me another lesson.”

“Something like that,” she said, “although if you’d carried on… Tonight isn’t about my pleasure, it’s about yours. And, as I’ve said, we only had a few moments. Get up. We need to be in our seats.”

I stood, took the same seat as I’d occupied before, Zara tugging down her skirt then sitting beside me. It was all very well allowing me one little taste, but wasn’t she desperate for my tongue down there again? If she took my cock in her mouth right now and only gave it one suck, I didn’t think I’d be able to concentrate on anything else until she’d plunged it into her mouth again and sucked me dry.

The curtain to the viewing window opened, preventing any more discussion or thoughts on the matter. A man and a woman stood on the other side of the glass in front of a floor-to-ceiling red curtain that obscured the back half of the room. He was over six feet easy, her around five. The man, with his long, wavy blond hair and scrubby beard brought to mind a Viking, and I supposed his outfit helped give that illusion.

He had on some kind of bronze-coloured metal plating, a waistcoat of sorts, and a shiny gold chain was slung around his waist, another length of it dangling by his side. A circlet of metal was on the end, reminding me of old-fashioned manacles. I frowned at his get-up, wondering if he felt manly with his lower half on show like it was. If I owned such an impressive cock, I’d feel bloody manly. It appeared as if it would be heavy to hold—not that I wanted to hold it—that it would expand to eye-watering thickness once he got hard. His balls hung low, the sacs defined as two rather than one fleshy pouch. A dark-blond halo of curls surrounded his root, thick and growing upwards, thinning a little as the mat covered his lower abdomen. I could only assume his chest was a riot of hairiness too, but the bronze plating hid it.

His partner, one hell of a petite thing, was also blonde, except she’d be described as more flaxen. Pixie-like, she was, everything about her delicate, very much the same as Zara. She had on some white transparent fabric—it could hardly be called a dress—that seemed to float around her as though it was tangible air. Her large breasts didn’t seem in keeping with the rest of her—they looked paid-for to me—and the darkness of her perky nipples tented the material.

I thought about my cock between Zara’s tits and, feeling guilty, wondered what this woman’s would feel like clamped around me. She was pretty in a girl-next-door way, nothing to really write home about. I realised, with some surprise, that I didn’t find her sexually appealing and questioned whether it was because of her hair colouring. Zara’s, so black, made me think of debauchery and sin. This little lady…well, she was too much sweetness and light. She’d have appealed to me last week, though…

“These are the Swedes I mentioned,” Zara said quietly. “What they are about to do might shock the shit out of you, so be warned.”

I swallowed, thinking of Julie and The Harlequin. Could it be any worse than that?

I had no idea, but I’d soon be finding out.

I hadn’t had the heart to tell Victor tonight would be our last. How could I, when, once I’d turned to look at him, he’d melted my damn heart. Yes, I could admit it now—I was falling for him in a big way, and I just couldn’t allow us to go on any further. After he’d seen the Swedes, I’d tell him I thought he’d learnt all he needed to know. If he argued that I was reneging on our bet, so be it. I was his Mistress—right up until the second I gave him permission to be free—and he would jolly well do as I said.

No matter how much it hurt me. Better to let him go now than…

Anyway, him sitting beside me like he was, hand on the armrest as though he was going to reach out and touch me any second, had me wanting to move away. Not because I didn’t want his hands on me—far from it, I desperately wanted him all over me, and that was the problem.

“He’s a bit…big,” Victor whispered. “And she’s so small. Can she take him?”

I laughed—hard and long, a good release of tension. A bit cruel of me really, considering I knew what might be coming next. “Oh, yes, she can take him on.”

“So she’s used to him, then? The size of his cock when he gets bigger, I mean.”

I nodded, even though Victor wasn’t looking at me. “Lovisa’s used to Halsten.” Biting the inside of my cheek so I didn’t laugh again, I said, “This will be one of those times where you question your sexuality. That’s all the warning I’m going to give. Now, let’s keep quiet, understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Victor settled back in his seat, but if I knew him he wouldn’t be like that for long. No, he’d either sit bolt upright or leap out of his chair to press his nose to the window. A week ago he’d have run for the door.

“Good evening, sinners!”
Lovisa said, her accent thick. “Tonight we have a treat for you, a delight for your eyes, your cocks and your conts. Halsten has been a very bad boy, but if he is good now, he will get a reward.” She moved to stand in front of him and looked up at his face. “Are you going to be good for the sinners, Halsten?”

He nodded, widening his eyes, bushy brows lifting.

She reached up and grabbed a hank of his hair, wrapped it around her fist, then drew his face down with a sharp tug so his head bent to one side. “You had better be, for you know how I dislike it much when you are naughty.” She released his hair, then gave him a two-palmed shove to his chest. “Open the curtains, slave, and show the sinners what your treat will be tonight.”

I wondered what Victor was thinking. He had assumed
Lovisa would be the submissive. Oh, how deceptive appearances could be.

Lovisa
stepped away, the fabric of her outfit billowing around her, and went to select a flogger from the far-right wall. She chose one with hard, red plastic balls on the end—and God, they made quite a pattern on the skin. Hurt, too, I imagined, going by the great bellows Halsten had roared out the last time I’d watched them.

She turned to face the window again, dragging the strands across one palm. The balls tinkled. “Do you hear the sound?” she asked
Halsten as he did as she’d ordered, drawing each curtain across in turn. “Do you think you can take these little balls tonight? I have chosen the ones with the tiny spikes on.”

He nodded vigorously, and the muscles in his arse flexed. I wondered how hard they would feel beneath my hands. He wasn’t for touching, though.
Lovisa guarded him fiercely, and well she should. They were married, and with Halsten’s gladiator beauty, she needed to keep a firm hold of him. Women came here to watch this show and hung around in the car park afterwards just to get an extra glimpse of him. It wouldn’t surprise me if Lovisa had had to scare them off with a few well-chosen words.