In the Middle (9 page)

“Whose zipper is it tonight?” He asked.

“Yours, Master.” She felt like she couldn’t breathe. As long as he kept touching her, pinching her, she’d say anything he wanted her to.

He pulled the zipper down farther until the jacket was barely staying on, and pushed it to the side to uncover her breasts completely, save for the transparent bra. Briefly they were lit up by the headlights of a parking car, and she knew the people inside could see everything. “Don’t concern yourself,” he said while spinning her so that her back was to them. “If I wanted to, I’d turn you the other way so they could get a better look. I choose not to, this time. Are you wet?”

If she lied, she was sure he’d know it, and worse, he’d probably check right there and then. So she told the truth. “Yes.” The idea of being exposed to the strangers’ views alarmed and excited her all at once. She would never do it just for the thrill of exhibiting herself, and yet the idea that he might
make
her do it had her pussy tingling and juicing. She felt light-headed, as if all the sexual tension had gone to her brain and the sensible Louise wasn’t to be found anymore.

“Good. I’ll discipline you properly inside, not on the porch. Come.” He took her hand and then, almost as afterthought, zipped up her jacket. It was still lower than it had been, displaying her bra to any who looked, but at least her nipples were covered.
Slutty but not indecent.

Inside the massive oak doors sat a young man at a desk. His head was bald, and he wore earrings in both ears. He looked like a pirate from the neck up; all he needed was an eye patch. But below that he could have been any businessman sitting at any desk in the world with a yellow shirt and a blue tie. He looked up at them expectantly, with no sign of recognition, but when Rob took out his wallet and flashed a card, the man smiled.

“She’s my guest. Her name is Louise. She’ll have to sign papers.”

The man behind the desk nodded and pulled open a drawer. He took out a stapled set of two pages and shoved them across the desk at her. There was a quill pen and an inkwell on the desk, and nothing else to write with. She looked at the papers. Small print. Very small print, although not unreadable.

“This could take me all night.” She bent down to read the papers better, and her jacket rustled. The young man looked at her breasts, and she realized how good a view she was giving him. She grabbed the papers and straightened, continuing to read.

“Now, dear, don’t be shy. I think he likes what he saw.” Rob moved behind her and unzipped her, this time all the way. She gasped but could only try to brush his hand aside with one of hers without dropping the papers. He ignored her and cupped her breasts without covering her nipples. “What’s your name?” Rob asked the man.

“Ethan.”

Like I can concentrate while he’s doing that
. But he hadn’t told her to stop reading, so she skimmed onward while feeling her breasts were on fire from his touch. Most of it was simply stating that she would not reveal who she saw or the location of the place or anything that went on there. But there was more—an agreement to behave while on the premises—and giving her sponsor, presumably Rob, permission to punish her as he saw fit for any infractions. There was a place to fill in his name, so she did, the pen feeling like it was scratching the paper as she wrote. She certainly didn’t want anyone else punishing her. Actually signing the paper, however, made her hesitate.

“Note the club safe word, love. All you have to do is say ‘violet,’ and people will come running to help you. None of what’s there is legal except for the nondisclosure section really. You won’t be held against your will. But if you wish to be welcome back, you have to follow the rules.” He pinched her nipple softly, then harder, finally tugging as he spoke.

He might be able to multiprocess, but I’m having trouble
. She was aware of Ethan watching her intently. Or at least watching her breasts. She signed the paper, wondering if she was in her right mind, but in the end, she trusted Rob.

“Welcome to the Velvet Mansion, Miss Louise,” Ethan said.

“Could you zip my coat up now, Master?”

“Certainly.” She breathed a sigh of relief when he said it, but he pulled it off her entirely. With a smirk, he zipped it up and handed it to the young man. “She’ll pick it up on her way out.”

“I can’t just—”
walk around in a bra
, she was going to say, but she stopped as she watched another couple come in, two women. One of them took off her raincoat the moment she entered. She was naked, shaved, and collared. There were shiny silver rings in her nipples. Her friend, a very tall and beautiful woman in a leather dress, who must have spent an hour on her ornate makeup, led her to the desk. Ethan got up, reached out his hand, and took the newcomer’s coat as well. He hung both of them in a large walk-in closet a few feet away.

Rob chuckled. “Yes, you can.”

The other couple continued on down a curved hall. Louise wondered if they had been the ones parking the car when she was on the porch. Rob took Louise’s hand, and they followed.

It wasn’t like any bondage club Louise had imagined. Chandeliers hung from the high, arched ceilings of the hall. The place smelled freshly cleaned and lemony. After Rob had escorted Louise a quarter of the way around, long, curved stairs led up to a floor above, the kind that made Louise imagine some southern belle in an old-fashioned dress, maybe even a wedding dress, gliding down the staircase. To the left, another hall extended, this one straight; to the right, an arched gateway with large mahogany double doors.

“I’m told there are private rooms down the hallway and more up the stairs as well. But through the doors is the ballroom where people socialize. After you.”

Actually privacy sounds kind of nice
. She wasn’t as worried about people seeing her breasts as her bare stomach. If nothing else, Ethan’s staring had assured her that her boobs were presentable enough. But Rob had already opened the door and gestured her into the ballroom.

She walked in, mesmerized, and took in the scene. Her heels click-clacked on the stone tile floor. The large black-and-white squares reminded her of a chessboard. Nearly fifty people stood about in various states of dress and undress, mostly arranged in obvious couples, some singles, a few groups of three. A well-built waiter balancing his tray of canapés on his palm, wearing tux pants, shoes, a bow tie, and nothing else, spotted them and headed their way. For a little while, Louise had been too busy looking at others to worry about people looking at her. Behind a marble bar on the far side of the room stood a similarly dressed bartender who if anything was in even better shape with short spiky black hair and a scar on his cheek. Someone not to mess with, Louise decided.

“Would you like a drink?” asked Rob. “No more than one with alcohol in it tonight. I never play with someone whose judgment might be impaired.”

She was staring at two men pressed against each other. One was nearly naked, wearing only a thong. The other wore a muscle shirt and jeans. They were kissing ferociously, and the more clothed one was squeezing his partner’s ass. “Sorry?” she asked as her brain belatedly played back what he’d said. “Oh, a drink. Um, yeah.” She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until she’d watched the two men kissing. Now suddenly her tongue felt dry.
God that’s hot.

Rob smirked. Apparently he noticed what she was looking at. “Then let’s go to the bar. The bartender is an old friend of mine, used to live in Chicago.” He took a snack off the proffered tray and thanked the man who brought it.

Louise took a little piece of bread with caviar on it and smiled back at the waiter as she hurried to follow Rob. A fish egg threatened to roll off, so she felt obligated to stop it with her tongue, and the mixture of salt and savory that filled her mouth was heavenly.

“Rob! Hey, didn’t expect to see you here!” The two men exchanged hearty handshakes. Louise sat on one of the bar stools, taking another chance to look around as the two reacquainted themselves. The bar stools, she realized, were the only normal places to sit down in the entire room. There were cushions scattered about, however, and a few pieces of bondage furniture, each painted off-white in the same fashion, with the deep glossy finish one usually saw only on cars. They blended in rather than stood out—the same color as the walls and not too far off the white of the tiles—but now that she saw one, she saw them all. A spanking bench with the white steel frame set off by a cushion of black leather. A St. Andrew’s cross. A frame in which a beautiful curvy woman was suspended, receiving the attentions of two shirtless men, one of whom was caning her backside while the other was alternately caressing, pinching, and flogging her front. Louise smiled. To have the attention of two men at once looked like a special pleasure, and despite the stripes on the woman’s bottom, she had a blissful look on her face.

Louise heard her name and turned to see the bartender’s hand extended. She shook it. “Pleased to meet you,” she said, although she hadn’t caught his name.

“It’s Louise’s first time in a bondage club or a play party,” Rob said. “So she’s a bit unfocused. Louise, please turn your back to all the interesting people. They won’t sneak up on you and molest you, as much as they might like to.”

That wasn’t entirely comforting, but she did turn as requested. She’d had a mind to count how many of the women wore less than she did, but now she couldn’t. She was pretty sure it was a majority, however.

“Did you even hear my friend’s name?” Rob asked sharply.

“Um.” This didn’t look good. The bartender was shaking his head with a suppressed smile on his face. Rob had a glint in his eye she wasn’t sure what to make of. “James?” she guessed wildly.

“No. That’s the second time you’ve been too busy staring to pay attention. Not to mention forgetting to keep your zipper where I put it. Stretch out over my knee.”

“Excuse me?”

Rob grabbed her, picked her up off the bar stool as if she was as light as a feather, and then sat back down again. By the time he was done, her face was a foot from the floor, and her ass was up in the air. She wasn’t sure what to do with her legs, but she guessed aiming them toward the floor was more ladylike than kicking them up in the air, and she didn’t want to find out what happened if she accidentally kicked him.

Not that ladylike mattered much when he pulled up her skirt and bunched it over her waist.

Smack.

His hand came down on her bare bottom with unexpected force, shaking her and stinging her at the same time.

“Hey!”

He gave her two more smacks, and to her surprise, her pussy started to flood with moisture. Her cheeks were warm with embarrassment, but that didn’t seem to matter to the rest of her.

“Remember,” he said gently, “your safe word is ‘Colorado.’”

She didn’t want to use it, so she didn’t say anything at all. He resumed the spanking.

Her ass burned by the time he stopped at a dozen or so. Without another word, he pushed her legs apart and slid two fingers into her pussy. She didn’t understand why being spanked, in public too, made her feel so horny and want his touch so badly.

“Very wet,” he said.
No kidding
. It took her a moment to realize that it might have been said for the bartender’s benefit as much as hers. No, that wasn’t quite right—said because the bartender was listening and because she knew it. He was trying to make her blush.

“You don’t want me to stop, do you?” Rob asked, sliding his fingers back and forth inside her.

“Somewhere else? Somewhere private?”

“No, I don’t believe you’ve earned that yet. Here, or I can stop. You choose.”

She couldn’t tell him to keep finger fucking her right then and there. But she wasn’t about to tell him to stop. She bit her lip, not wanting to speak. His finger curled and stroked her G-spot lovingly. She’d been on edge all evening. If he kept that up, she was going to come. Each thrust brought her closer.

He pulled his fingers out. She whimpered. The thought of him stopping had become unbearable. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please don’t stop, Master.”

“You want me to bring you off with my fingers, right here?” His fingers slid along her labia, teasing. It was nowhere near enough.

“Yes, Master. I’ll do anything.” She regretted the words the moment she’d said them.
Almost anything.

“Obey me then, and you’ll get what you want. What you need. Right now.” He pulled her up, sitting her on his lap for a moment. It wasn’t what she expected. She wanted him inside her, fingers, cock, whatever fit.

He gripped her waist, lifted her, and set her down on the bar facing the room. She squeezed her eyes shut to try to block it out. Then he pushed her legs open again, and before she had a chance to object, his fingers were back inside her. She closed her mouth. Audience or no, she wanted this.

“Tease her breasts for me please, Spike? If you’re not too busy. They’re very responsive.”

Shocked, she opened her eyes. Big, rough hands closed around her tits. She couldn’t see the other man behind her, but between the two of them, she knew she had no chance for escape. Rob’s thumb brushed against her clit. Spike’s fingers stroked her nipples through rough lace, making her tingle all over.
Spike is a stranger. I shouldn’t be letting him touch me like that. But Rob is in charge
. There was something delicious, something wonderfully slutty, about a stranger touching her, but only Rob’s commands made it okay. And it wasn’t nearly as slutty as spreading her legs so that dozens of people could see Rob’s fingers sliding in and out of her.

He’d pushed her into a place where she could be a purely sexual being, and her inhibitions were irrelevant. She arched her back, thrusting her breasts into Spike’s hands at the same time she moved her hips to give Rob better access.

“Pinch them hard, Spike. She likes it.”

I don’t!
The protest died in her throat as Spike pressed and pulled at her nipples. The painful squeezes on her aching peaks only increased her desire to find release. She undulated in rhythm with Rob’s strokes, fucking his fingers hard, meeting his unflinching gaze. It was the one safe place to look in the room.