Slow Surrender (23 page)

“That man called her
Your Highness
,” I said.

“He may have. The society has many members who inherited both their wealth and their influence. The idle rich need their hobbies. But it’s much more likely they’re play-acting than that she’s royalty.”

“Is he really submissive?”

“What do you mean by
really
?”

“Is he a timid guy who likes to be bossed around in real life?”

“Actually, I think he’s the CEO of a well-known tech company, if I’m not mistaken. Many people in positions of high responsibility enjoy giving up the decision-making to someone else when it comes to bedroom games.”

“And he becomes her plaything.”

“Perhaps. He certainly looks deep in role.”

“He plays the part well.” It was hard to imagine the CEO of a big corporation groveling. “And she can do whatever she wants to him?”

“It depends on what they negotiated. Every couple is different, but there are always rules.”

“Like our rules.”

“Exactly. It’s more likely there are certain limits she has to respect, but within those limits she can be creative. Otherwise he won’t feel like she’s in charge.”

“He looks so vulnerable like that, with her foot on his neck.”

“She wouldn’t injure him, I’m sure. But some men find it difficult to experience vulnerability in real life. It’s not safe. And yet so many men can’t experience their full emotions unless they’re made vulnerable. I’m sure he craves the emotional experience as much as the physical one.”

“Maybe that’s another and-not-or situation, though,” I said. “The physical and the emotional can’t be separated. Not when someone’s stepping on your neck, anyway.”

He led me past a room where a woman was sprawled across a chaise lounge, her bosom spilling loose from the bodice of her gown while a completely naked man suckled one of her nipples and another did something under her skirts. Only the lower half of his body was visible. In the next room, a man and a woman were in their underwear, their hands against the grand marble mantelpiece above the fireplace, while a man and a woman, still in their formal wear, took turns lashing them with short whips. The woman cracked her whip in the air and I jumped: it sounded like a gunshot.

The two naked people had jumped, too, and the woman started laughing. The man wiggled his butt enticingly and received a lash for it. A crowd had gathered around them, a dozen or so people, to watch.

I suddenly clutched at my partner’s arm and turned my face away. “That’s…that’s…”

He shielded me from the sight of those inside the room with his body and murmured in my ear, “Your Professor Renault. I know.”

“You know!” My throat went tight with outrage.

“Yes. It’s his third visit as a guest. His name has been submitted for membership.”

My stomach turned and I pulled away, but he didn’t let me go far before he steered me to a parlor where we were alone and could sit. “I’m totally disgusted.”

“As well you should be.”

“These people, it’s…that’s…” I couldn’t even put it into words. “That’s disgusting.”

“Back up, Karina. What’s disgusting?”

“This group of perverts! God!” I shook myself like a dog, as if I could shake that feeling of the willies away. “Ugh!”

He gave me a moment, then tried again. “So, you see one idiot predator in our midst and have decided everyone’s like him?”

I didn’t answer right away and received the skeptical eyebrow from him.

“Well, you’re not,” I admitted.

“Look around,” he said. “Have you seen anyone who looked like they were being victimized so far?”

“No.” Everyone looked like they were having a grand time, especially the ones on the receiving end. “You can’t possibly let him join.”

“Lucinda is here to keep an eye on him tonight. We take every issue of consent very seriously.”

“What if he doesn’t do anything wrong?”

“If he had even a single report of sexual harassment on his record, I doubt he would have made it this far.”

“I get it! Okay! I should have reported it. But I didn’t. And now it’s too late.”

“It’s never too late.”

“And that girl never called me! Oh man. I wonder what happened to her.” My shoulders slumped. Maybe she hadn’t even gone to his office after the scene I made about it. Or…”Maybe I’m the only one he did it to.”

“You’re very special, sweetness, but I highly doubt you’re the only one.” He held my hand. “You could guarantee his rejection by making a report.”

I swallowed. “I’ll think about it,” I said. “Is that what you brought me here for? To convince me to do the right thing?”

He pulled my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles gently. “Don’t be silly. I brought you here to fulfill your Cinderella fantasy, and to fuck you in front of some of the most influential people in the world.”

Oh. Right. My heart was suddenly beating much harder and the dress seemed almost too tight to breathe in. “Even him?”

“Even him. Sweetness, there is no chance he’s recognized you even if he has caught a glimpse of you. You are a completely transformed creature from your usual. However, I do have something that will undoubtedly keep him from recognizing you.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I will trade your dress for it.”

“What is it?”

“A blindfold, my sweet.” He got to his feet and pulled a satin blindfold with elastic straps from the inner pocket of his jacket. It was midnight blue to match my dress and had a rhinestone stud.

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “You really plan ahead, don’t you?”

His grin matched mine. “Always.” He gave me a serious look then. “If you’re not comfortable with him here—”

“I’m not afraid of him,” I insisted, standing up, too. “Besides, wasn’t he at the gallery last week? He’s already seen my ass.”

“Let’s go upstairs first before I put this on you. I think there’s a room there that’ll suit our needs.” He slipped the blindfold into his pocket, took my hand again, and led me toward the grand staircase.

U
pstairs there was a long hallway with rooms upon rooms. Some had their doors closed, but many were open. He told me that an open door was an invitation to watch, but not necessarily to join in. No one was going to touch me without permission. He didn’t say it but I understood that meant not only my permission, but also his.

We went into a large room with a balcony overlooking the ballroom. The two main pieces of furniture were a large round bed, larger than a typical king size, and a sort of tubular frame.

He helped me to undress down to nothing but jewelry, draping my things over a chair, then asked me to help him do the same. I was a little surprised since with most of the couples I’d seen, the dominant partner was still clothed.

Helping him out of the jacket, I felt like I was peeling away layers of his armor. I slipped his shoes from his feet, one, then the other, and eased his briefs down over his hips.

His cock was already eagerly rising, but he pulled me against his leg and said, “Make me hard.”

I slipped a hand down to it and stroked the loose skin up and down the thickening shaft until it tightened. I could feel his heartbeat in my hand as I stroked, and an answering throb seemed to beat between my legs.

He led me to the frame and then opened the top drawer of the dresser against the wall. I’d assumed it held someone’s clothes, but no. It was full of rope.

He selected a few coils from several he dug out and laid them atop the dresser for later, bringing one over to me.

“So,” he said, brushing his hands over my hair and down my back, over my buttocks and up my stomach, fingers pausing to tease my nipples, “you’re not my slave, not my servant, not my minion. You don’t have a collar, you don’t have a title, and you don’t have a job other than pleasing me. Stand on one foot. Bring the other one up as high as you can. Hold on to the frame if you need help balancing.”

I put a hand on the frame and bent one knee, picking it up as high as I could, pointing my toe like a ballerina, though I was no longer wearing the ballet flats. Doing so parted my lower lips, and the scent of my desire wafted up like waves of heat. He slid a finger down to spread them farther, barely brushing at my clit and running his fingertips up and down the newly shaven skin.

Then he wrapped the rope around my thigh and shin so that my leg would stay bent at that angle, and then he tied the whole thing to one pole of the frame, raising my foot so it was in the crook of my other knee, like a ballerina caught in the middle of a spin. A couple came in. Our first spectators.

He retrieved the blindfold then and settled it over my eyes, stealing a quick kiss from my lips and stealing my breath away at the same time.

I felt him drape a rope over my shoulder, his fingers always caressing my skin as he prepared to do whatever he was going to.

He wrapped the ropes around my upper body much like he had that time in the hotel suite, tightening around my breasts and making my nipples extra sensitive. Then he pulled on one arm, gently lifting it from my side. It was the opposite arm from the leg that was bound, and he made me stretch to the side and back some, the rope that coiled around that arm pulling taut to another part of the frame. The other arm he bound upward. Now I must truly have looked like a dancer caught in mid-movement.

“Do you remember that first time in the car,” he murmured close in my ear, “when I spanked your cunt for the first time?”

“Yes.”

“I wonder if it will feel different now,” he said, as if sure that it would.

I could feel that his hand was cupped at first as he tapped on my mound, standing close enough to press his lips against my hair while his hand did its wicked work.
Tap tap tap
. Only soon it was less of a tap and more of a clap, as he relaxed his hand and slowed the rhythm. My arousal shot up and continued to climb as he slowed even more, each blow now a full slap, right on my exposed cunt, catching both the fleshy lips and my clit.

At first, the sounds I made were soft moans, but as his hits rose in intensity, so did my pitch. By the time he was smacking me full-on, each cry was a wail.

It dropped to a groan as he paused and circled my clit with one fingertip. I could hear the murmurs of people watching.

“You’re so engorged,” he whispered. “This is what happens after a whole week of teasing without release.”

I shook on my one standing leg, bouncing up and down with impatience. “I want it now!”

“Patience. Should I let you come before I’m inside of you?”

“Please?” I tried bargaining. “I could always come again after you’re inside me.”

He clucked his tongue and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Nice try, sweetness. But I would rather torture you some more.”

His torture consisted of more slow circles of his finger, through the wetness gathering below and then over my clit. He was right: I don’t think it had ever been so swollen. If he would just flick his fingers back and forth across it a few times, that would probably be enough to send me over the edge.

He clucked his tongue again and withdrew his hand, moving his attention to my buttocks. “I’ll let your front side cool down a little,” he said as he let the first spank land.

I yelped, but once he got going in a steady rhythm, it didn’t matter what sounds I made. His slaps on my ass started light, but they soon grew heavy and each blow made me scream. The harder he spanked, the longer he waited between hits, as if waiting for the sound of my scream to fade between each one. In the silences between, I could hear my own breathing and the rhythmic whimpers of another woman nearby having sex or at least being masturbated.

I could feel him move under my outstretched arm, and a warm hand slid down my cunt so that one finger was curled just enough to penetrate me while the palm pressed against my clit. His other hand rubbed my buttock.

Then that hand struck, and my body jerked against the palm on my clit. I gasped. “Oh God, that’ll make me come.”

“You’re forbidden from coming,” he said. “I expect you to warn me if you get too close.” With that, he began spanking me steadily, making me cry out.

I was so desperate to come by that time that I seriously considered cheating. What would he do, punish me? Wasn’t that what we were doing anyway? My brain was foggy from lust and hormones and endorphins.

He wouldn’t be happy if I did that, though, and I wanted him to be happy.

I wanted to be happy. “Stop! Stop-stop-stop! Oh God…”

He stopped and let go, so that the only thing touching me was ropes, and I spasmed on them almost like having an orgasm, except it was a false one. I hadn’t gotten there, and that left me even more in need. I was making a whining sound like a neglected puppy.

Then I felt his cock rubbing against my leg. His mouth was at my ear. “You don’t know how hard it is not to shove myself inside you right now. I’m completely on fire.”

I could only whine in answer.

I could hear him groaning, almost growling, as he teased me with the tip of his cock, running it up and down the slick seam of me, between my legs and between the widespread lips. Then he took a deep breath and stepped back so that I couldn’t feel him anymore. I could make out a murmur of voices from the edge of the room as I listened, trying to guess what he was doing.

I heard something rip before he stepped up to me again, and the tip of him felt cold and squishy. That jolted me a little.

“You put on a condom?” I asked.

“House rules,” he said. He teased more, then pulled back again. “I think I had best cut you down and move you somewhere more comfy for this.”

He snapped his fingers and someone else must have helped let the ties loose. I felt the ropes around my rib cage loosen and my breasts come free. I still had the rope tied around my leg, but I was no longer attached to the frame or held in position. He carried me to the bed and helped me to scoot back until my head was on the pillows.

He kissed me, deeply, and the pillow felt downy and luxurious under my head. His cock slid between my legs, teasing us both. My one leg was still bent from the ropes, but my knee was pointed up at the ceiling and I moved so that the other knee crooked also. He lay in the valley between my legs and then lifted up on his arms, positioning himself. The head of his cock swirled against my opening, which was gushingly wet and aching to be penetrated.

I gripped him with my knees. “Stop.”

He held still and I couldn’t hear anyone. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice hoarse with desire.

I knew what I had to do. I knew what I wanted. But it took me a few more tries before I could get it out. “Who’s here now?”

Our voices were so soft that even if spectators were standing over us, they wouldn’t be able to make out anything we were saying, but I wanted to know. “Hardly anyone,” he answered in his most soothing voice. He chuckled a little. “Plain old sex is boring to them, after all. There are two couples making out against the wall and two people out on the balcony.”

“Good.”

He tried to move but my knees still held him in place. I felt the tip of him rubbing at the opening. He made an involuntary noise, very much like the puppy whine I’d made. “Karina—”

“Not until you tell me your real name,” I whispered.

“It really is James.”

“I know it is. I mean the rest of it. Your full name.”

He went still and rigid above me, then shook as if he had swallowed a cough. “You can’t be serious.”

“Serious as a heart attack. You want in, you tell me who you are.”

“I won’t take you without your consent,” he said, as if that were the issue.

“The price of my consent is your name,” I said.

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Don’t I?” I whispered vehemently. “You’re the one who goes on and on about the value of honesty, of loyalty! Where’s the honesty now, mister?”

“I…There are reasons I haven’t told you.”

“Bullshit. I think you’re so used to hiding it, you don’t know how to stop.”

“I promise I’ll tell you in the future.”

“I don’t believe you. And if I can’t believe you, this whole thing is…is nothing.”

I could feel him trembling now as he held himself above me, but perhaps also as my words had an effect.

“You’re right,” he whispered. “I don’t want it to be nothing.”

“I know,” I murmured back. “I feel like if I don’t demand your name now, you’ll never give it to me. I’ll never truly know you. And if you don’t trust me enough to tell me now, you’ll never trust me.”

“I do trust you, Karina.”

“Prove it,” I hissed.

He pressed his forehead against mine, as if thinking, as if resting a moment. Then I felt his mouth move to my ear, his breath warm and making me melt, but not enough to give in, until he whispered, “James. Byron. LeStrange.”

I relaxed my grip and he plunged in. I’m sure if I had not made the demand I had, he would have worked his way in gradually, but having held him back and having asked a price, the price I paid in return was the whole length of him splitting me open in one searing thrust. I couldn’t even scream as everything in my body clenched tightly around the intrusion.

One of his hands brushed over my nipples made hypersensitive from the squeezing of the ropes. The touch seemed to make something in the center of me blossom, and to my surprise he thrust even deeper, creating a burst of pleasure in me. His mouth was at my neck then, triggering the spot that always made me wild, his thumb on one nipple, tweaking and circling, and his cock withdrew several inches before plunging back in.

On the thrust I saw stars, my skin tingling everywhere he was touching me, and my hips rocked to meet him on the next thrust. And the next, and the next. If it had hurt in that initial moment of penetration, all trace of it was gone, as this felt like the best of the heavy, smooth glass inside me, but also the heat and friction of a real body and the tension of his desire.

It was everything I had ever dreamed sex could be. Each thrust was a treat, an explosion of pleasure in its own right that made me want another and another and another. And he had finally told me! I felt the last barrier between us crumble. I clung to him with all my limbs as I neared orgasm and made myself come as I banged my hips against him, smacking my clit between our bodies until I screamed. And still he did not stop. He flattened me into the bed with his thrusts, sometimes fast for a while, so fast I could barely catch a breath, other times slow and relentless with a snap at the end of each long plunge that made me gasp.

He urged me to turn over and I got on all fours. He flattened me against the bed again while his cock hunted for my opening. From this angle he felt different and I moaned, thrusting my ass up.

His hand reached around me and made me come again with harsh, fast rubbing on my clit. I screamed into the pillow as he wrung an orgasm from me and then plowed right on to a third, fourth, and fifth, by which time I was screaming at him, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!”

“Yes, you can,” he hissed as I came again on the vicious rubbing of his fist. “Change positions.”

This time he lay on his back and pulled me to lie on top of him, also faceup so that I was wide open for him. The blindfold kept me from seeing the ceiling above us, but I didn’t need to see to feel every inch of him. He didn’t penetrate as deep this way, but there was still plenty of him inside me, and he used slow strokes now, rocking his pelvis under me.

James Byron LeStrange. It suddenly hit me that J. B. Lester was a bastardized version of that, and I had been right about James being his real first name. He had wanted to tell me. I know he did. But he had to be pushed to go all the way. I wondered what had happened to him in the past to make him trust so slowly. Who had hurt him so much that I had to pry this hard to get him to let go of his name? Lucinda? Or had it been someone else?

“Turn over again,” he said, his voice harsh with need.

I rolled onto my back and reached for him. I heard a snap, and the next thing I felt was the warm condom in my hand.

“I thought there were rules?”