Mutual Release (13 page)

She stood staring at him, satisfaction in her gaze. “Lovely. Well done, slave. I’m sorry I can’t return the favor… yet.” She rubbed the whip handle along her bare sex, then turned around, pointed to a few of the people standing around in various stages of masturbation and yelled at them to bring the cross. That her slave still had a lesson to learn. “You are a lovely and very interesting specimen,,” she practically purred in his ear as she removed the arm restraints and pulled him to his wobbly feet.

She kissed him, diving into his mouth, wrapping her entire self around him. But he stood, hands at his sides. He knew better. She stepped away, leaving him breathless and teetering, nearly falling over when someone’s very soft hands tugged his underwear off. He stood wearing nothing but a silk tie and a giant throbbing erection.

The woman walked around him three times as he stood, teeth chattering, every inch of him aching for release. At one point she wrapped her hand around his shaft, stroked up and down his length, rubbing her finger and then her lips across the fluid that now coated the tip. “Have you ever been fucked, slave?”

His brain fluttered as she pushed him back to the cross, keeping their eyes in constant contact. The whooshing sound returned, and he saw nothing but the deep mocha of her eyes. The room was gone, the other people, his friend, all of it disappeared as if by odd sexual magic. “No, Mistress,” he whispered as she ran her hands all over him, tweaking his nipples, gripping his ass, stroking his balls. He gritted his teeth against the impulse to beg her to do just that.

“Perhaps…,” she said, biting his lower lip again, “after you service me once more. I like your skills… so far.” She stepped back and flicked the whip, striping his chest lightly, masterfully, just enough to make him wince and want more. “I’m doing this so you learn, slave. So that you understand that it is never, ever just about you and what you can do and how hard you get off at the end. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Mistress.” He could barely hear or see, but his senses were full of her. She snapped her fingers, took a leather collar attached to a chain, and put it around his neck, kissing him gently, in an odd juxtaposition of movements. The leather bit, cutting into his windpipe. But he knew it would not hurt him and that he had to relax, as he had told countless subs in the past.

Panic started to blind him. But her lips soothed, her soft nonsense words forced a cooling wind through his fevered brain. Once his heart settled somewhat, she smiled at him, took something from another naked assistant and slid it over his cock, nestling it at the base and under his balls, making him grunt and bend over with sudden shocking pain.

“Shh… my sweet slave. Calm yourself.” She stroked his face, as gentle as the bite of the cock ring was excruciating. He could actually feel his dick hardening even further as blood was constricted by the tight metal circle. He blew out a few breaths, tried to go with it, to learn and understand the lesson she was teaching. Because he knew it was right. He’d never used any sort of restraint or pain-inducing device on himself, but applied them frequently, talking to his play partners and subs as if he understood their pain. But he had not. Until now.

She smiled and turned, leash in hand, and led him to a large, soft-looking lounge. “On your knees,” she commanded, flicking his shoulders with the flogger she’d exchanged for the bullwhip. He had pain and pleasure everywhere. He couldn’t even identify the individual points of either anymore. He dropped to his knees, his eyes on the floor, gazing at the shiny, sexy shoes below him. “Look up at me, boy.” She tilted his face up, gestured to her left, and a voluptuous naked woman appeared, smiling and holding the very clamps he was fond of applying. “Now, now,” his Mistress whispered when he struggled and whimpered, unable to stop. “I’m not going to hurt you. Much.” She ran a finger down his face. “Give me a word, slave. Any word. Tell me now, before it’s too late.”

“B-b-b-b-bahamas,” he stuttered, shaking as the very hot woman approached with the clamps.

“A lovely place indeed. I will remember that should we need it.” She sat back on the lounge, long legs crossed, dressed only in the bra, garter belt, and those goddamn shoes. Her smell nearly killed him; he wanted to taste her again so much he almost begged her. “Keep your eyes on me, boy. Focus and concentrate. And do not come.”

He sucked in a breath, kept his eyes on hers, drowning in them while the girl distracted him by stroking the now-pulsing head of his penis as she applied the clamps to his nipples, slowly but surely their hard metal action biting down and holding on. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned. “Make her stop, Mistress, please.” He bit his lips as his hips thrust seemingly of their own accord and his body went on pre-climax autopilot.

And then the girl was gone, and he was left, a quivering lump of need, staring at the red soles of his Mistress’ shoes. He shivered, licked his lips, and acknowledged this was the hottest damned thing that had ever happened to him – and the most humiliating and awful. He realized now what he’d been doing wrong, no matter that the women kept coming back and letting him. He had to be more aware, more in tune to his sub’s psychological need and not just her physical.

He gulped and let his gaze trail up from his Mistress’s shoes along the dark brown expanse of her legs. “Such a good boy,” she whispered, running her fingers absently along her abdomen. “Such a fast learner.” She put her shoe on his shoulder. “Service me. Make me come so hard I see fucking stars, slave. Do it now before I get bored.”

He nodded, focus locked on the shoe covering the foot still lying on the lounge. He gripped it, brought it to his lips, licked it, tasting expensive leather, then made his slow way up the inside of her leg. She was so ready for him, he could see it. But he released her and started over with the other leg, making whispery little kisses and small nibbles along her flesh. She gasped and moved her hips. But he left her center alone and kept moving up her taut torso, pulling first one then the other firm breast from the bra and teasing each of her nipples into ever harder peaks until he bit one, pinched the other, groaning when she tugged on the chain connecting his own nipple torture devices. He loomed over her, staring into her eyes. She smiled, slow, easy, and reached out for two ice cubes. Then, never breaking eye contact, she unclamped him and put the cubes directly on his tortured flesh.

“Fuck!” His cock leapt, making him wonder if he would have anything left when she was done with him. The pain was like nothing he’d ever felt, not even full body ice baths after long hard workouts were anything like this.

She kept staring at him, forcing him to meet her eyes. Finally, she removed the ice, went up on her elbows and gripped his neck. “You have a very solid skill set, slave,” she whispered. “But I still have not come. What are you waiting for?” She licked his lips. “Your Mistress demands another orgasm.”

She shoved him down between her legs and he used his finger this time, reaching high, hard, and fast, and finding her internal G-spot as if he’d been given a clear map. She arched into him as he used his thumb against her pulsing clit, and kept stroking and teasing her until she came apart, soaking his hand and making everyone around them sigh.

Evan looked up. The observers had coupled off and were all in various stages of copulation in many different combinations. Man on man, woman on woman, threesomes, and hetero couples, all were licking, stroking, kissing, fucking. The room shimmered with erotic energy. He collapsed onto his side, chest heaving, balls starting to set up a serious pain alert in his head. He touched himself, wincing at the near release he had before realizing his Mistress had remained quiet. She lay, quivering, in the aftermath of what he hoped was not an excellent acting job.

“Slave, you are very worthy. Your Mistress could become very attached to you.” She sat, her eyes alert once more. Simultaneous agony and pleasure coursed through him, and just as everything shrank to a pinpoint, sending him to a place he might never want to leave, Evan sensed something new. A shift in the atmosphere rippled around the room. A subtle change he sensed, as she attempted to rip the slave from the Master that was his natural position. He narrowed his eyes as he studied her body language, heard the hitch in her voice that had not been there before.

He stood, cock still encumbered, nipples on fire from the clamps and ice, and they circled each other a minute. She reached over and slowly tugged off the tie that hung around his neck, handing it to him and leaning in. “Take me,” she said, reaching down to cup his balls.

Evan now knew the tables had turned. What he did not know was how receptive this crowd would be to what he was about to do. He held out a hand, and a condom landed in it. He kept walking towards her as she backed up, biting her lip, until she hit the large wood and leather spanking bench. Having never come wearing a cock ring he was not exactly sure how this would go, but he knew one thing was certain. It was time to show the room he could flip this fucking scene on its ear.

The whooshing sounds in his ears ceased and the fuzz in his brain replaced with a clarity of purpose he had never experienced before. He ran his hand down the Mistress’s face, to her neck and around, grabbing hold of that mane of black hair and pulling hard. She tensed as he leaned in to suck a dark nipple, using his other hand to press against the hot mound of her sex. It pulsed against his palm.

He smiled into her neck, covered her lips with his, and lifted her up onto the bench. “You sure?” he asked as she grabbed his ass and tilted her hips to receive him. “Don’t want to piss off my Mistress,” he said as he entered the tight glove of her body, slow, firm, going deep then tilting his hips and hovering outside her again.

He kept his grip on her hair, made it even tighter. “I am sure.” She exhaled. “Now fuck me like you mean it.” She licked his neck, then bit down hard, making him shudder.

“Okay, anything to please you.” He gripped her hips and pounded into her, sucking on her nipples as she arched up, propping herself with her hands and wrapping her long legs around his waist. His own climax poised, hovering and ready to burst across his consciousness – but he had to ask. It was protocol. And if she said no, well, he was back where he started. “May I please come inside you, Mistress? Now?”

“Yes,” she hissed, as her entire body milked him to a rather painful release. “God!” she cried out, bringing a loud round of applause from the still-gathered throng. Evan heard nothing, knew nothing but his Mistress as he shivered and kept coming, thanks to the constriction around his balls. She held on, soothing, whispering, and making him whole again.

Chapter Twelve

The Monday after his initial foray as a submissive, Evan was sore all over but had an exam in his first class and couldn’t skip it, as much as his aching muscles begged him. He stumbled out of the house, blinking in the daylight like a mole, and sat for the exam, not even really remembering if he’d studied or not. His head still rang with the intensity of his experience at Club
Piquant
. He could not get the memories out of his head. The woman – his Mistress – had rocked him in ways he’d never thought he even wanted, but his flesh was on fire for her touch and his eyes burned to see her again.

He grabbed an apple from the cantina and wandered into his second class, still keeping to himself and replaying the conversation he’d had with Jack over in his head.

“Dude. That was… well, I don’t know what that was, exactly. But I assure you Jenna thought it was hot enough, and we had a fucking awesome time in our little curtained cubicle. So, um, thanks. I think.”

“I don’t know what it was either, man. But I am gonna do it again.”

“You sure? You are a fairly typical Dom. I’m surprised she was able to…”

“What you couldn’t hear was what she kept saying to me. That I had to learn… from her… and what she did. It would make me better with my own subs.”

Jack slapped his back and gave him an admiring look. “Well, at the end there, something tells me there was very little conversation going on. And a pretty hot switch.”

Evan blushed deep red and had to walk out of the room to hide the fact that he immediately tented his shorts at the memory of her amazing body and exotic brown skin gripping his, and of how fast she did indeed switch, right in front of everybody.

Now he sat towards the back, thinking he’d sleep through this class since they’d had a substitute professor who gave “droning bore” a new name for the past week or so. By the time the seats were filled, the door opened and Evan looked up immediately as if commanded. His Mistress stood at the front of the classroom in a charcoal-gray short skirt and cream silk blouse, her thick black hair pulled up in a severe bun, tortoiseshell glasses on her face. She stared right at him, winked, and walked around to the board and began the lesson.

He sank deep in his seat, looking around, certain there was a sign over his head flashing
I let her clamp my nipples and fucked her silly in front of an audience
. But no one gave him a second glance. The odd whooshing sound started low in his ears as he watched her write her name on the board:
Felicia Johnstone, J.D. Ph.D.
and then
new Assistant Director of Admissions for Northwestern Law School
. She stepped around the desk and leaned on it, crossing her ankles giving Evan an unimpeded view of the scarlet soles of her shoes. He groaned, put his head down on the desk, and quivered for the entire two hours, during which his cock stayed rock hard and leaking as if she had waved a magic Evan-has-an-embarrassing-boner wand.