Sexy as Hell Box Set (25 page)

She sighed. “And neither will I regarding submission. So, what the hell, let’s do this. What do you have in mind?”

I peered at Helen and Geoffrey again. He was tugging at her collar, drawing her face towards his cock. He said something; Helen opened her mouth. And, Christ, that cock sunk between her lips until her nose was buried in his hairs, his balls touching her chin.

“Is it all right if we just go for it?” I asked. “While the mood is right.”

“What, now?” She glanced around. “In here?”

“Yes, now, here,” I said firmly and in a new, more assertive voice.

“I suppose…” She swallowed and nibbled on the side of her thumbnail.

I’d knocked her off-kilter, taken Zara out of
her
comfort zone. How would she handle it? I suspected her safe word would spill from her lips quite early on. Being told what to do clearly wasn’t her thing, but she was willing to try it—for me. That had to count for something, didn’t it? Could I consider it to be a flicker of hope that I was different to all the other men she screwed with?

“Safe word?” I asked.

“Smitten,” she said, not a beat between my asking and her response.

I frowned at her choice then shrugged it off. “Take that collar off Rory.”

“Roly,” she said.

“
Roly then. Take it off. And don’t correct me unless it’s to teach me the ways of being dominant, all right? In fact, don’t say anything to me at all unless I ask you to speak, got it?” Was I going overboard, being too harsh? All I had to go on was her way of doing it, how she’d treated and spoken to me. It felt bloody good, though. I just had to hope she enjoyed it too.

“Yes…Sir.”

A surge of respect for her whipped through me. I knew how difficult it was to address her as Mistress, and her playing the game the right way, even if it felt alien to her… I goddamned adored her for it.

She reached down and did as I’d asked, then raised her arm in front of the window, her hand and the collar seeming to fit inside the backdrop picture frame of the full moon.

“Now put the dog out,” I said. “He doesn’t need to see what we’re going to do.” I would try many things she asked of me, but fucking in front of an animal wasn’t one of them.

She opened the door, shooing
Roly outside. I watched him plod off, then change his pace into a swift run towards where I knew his luxury wooden kennel had been constructed, in an outbuilding to the side of the barn.

“Remove your clothes,” I said, taking the collar from her. “All of them.”

While she undressed, I kept her in my peripheral, at the same time eyeing Helen and Geoffrey. He ploughed his cock in and out of her mouth, hands on top of her head, keeping her still. My cock twitched.

Zara was naked now, standing with her arms by her sides, fists clenched. She had a swathe of goose bumps over her chest, and the hairs on her arms stood erect. I’d soon have her hot and sweaty.

“Get down into a submissive pose,
slave
.”

She obeyed, albeit reluctantly.

“Are you comfortable with this?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Answer me, Zara.”

“Yes, Sir, for now.”

I knew full well what she must be feeling. I wanted to call it off—seeing her struggling like this; was it something I could handle?—yet at the same time I had the need to push her to
her
limits, see when she’d call it off. Is that what she’d been doing to me the whole time, waiting for me to shout my safe word? I damn well hadn’t, though, had I.

“Good. Now, I’m going to put this collar on you,” I said. “I know enough to understand the significance of it. And it’s only for now, for what we’re doing. I don’t expect you’d want the equivalent of a marriage band around your neck. I don’t know much about the lifestyle, but I’ve heard about that.”

She lifted her head and looked at me. Again, I couldn’t see her exact expression, but I thought I detected a question there.

“Do you want to say something, sub?”

“Permission to speak, Sir?”

“Yes, go on.”

“How do you know what I’d want?” Her pupils were wide—her lips shone, she’d just licked them.

“Much as you knew what I’ve wanted this last week.”

“No, I’m not talking about that, Sir. I meant your reference about the collar. It’s very significant in my world.”

What was she saying? She’d always given me the impression that she couldn’t wait to get rid of me. That she was a Mistress—one who would never be doing any permanent collaring. She was a free spirit, independent and more than content flitting about and hooking up with coffee-shop men.

“What do you mean?” I asked, wary of her answer.

“I might like it,” she said, almost too quietly.

“I see.” At least I thought I did. Was she was trying to tell me something—more than her enjoying being submissive? I couldn’t hope for that—no, not that, something more between us at the end of our month. I wouldn’t get so lucky. That kind of thing didn’t happen to blokes like me.

I leant down and placed the collar about her neck, going by feel alone while buckling it. Once I was done, she raised her head and stared right at me again, and despite the darkness, that collar stood out against the whiteness of her neck.

And it looked damn fine there. Suited her. Suited me. My collar, on Zara.

“How do you feel now?” I traced the shape of her cool cheek with my fingertips.

“Good, Sir.”

“Just good?”

“Different, Sir.”

“Anything else?”

“I’m fighting it, trying to understand why this isn’t…why it doesn’t feel horribly wrong. I never would have thought I could just…” She shrugged, her arms floppy, rag-doll-like. “But with you…”

I waited for more, but she didn’t continue. “Now do you understand how you’ve been making me feel? I’m not saying that as a negative, by the way, just a question. All this time you’ve been teaching me what I didn’t know was inside, and all along it was there… Talk to me.”

“It’s strange but liberating, Sir. But I’m afraid—not afraid in a scared sense—of what you’re going to ask me to do. Whether I can take orders without wanting to throw some back at you. Switching requires a lot of self-discipline, I see that now. The line between roles may become blurred.”

“So tell yourself to keep away from that line, then. Imagine one in your head like I’ve learned to do.”

“You have?” She blinked rapidly, shivered a little.

“Of course. During the day I’m a CEO, in charge, making snap decisions, multi-million-pound snap decisions, and creating structures that could cause a lot of harm if they’re not sound. Don’t you think I’ve had to scrub a line through that to be with you in the evening? To let you take that weight off of me and then submit, obey?” I paused, watching my words settle on her, then, “Are you ready to continue?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now shuffle along and sit on your backside, against the wall, so you can see what those two over there are doing.”

I glanced in the direction of the barn. Things had changed since I’d last looked. Helen was now chained to an X cross, her back towards Geoffrey, bottom jutting out. The man himself was pounding into her—cunt or arse I couldn’t tell—at the same time whipping her thigh with what appeared to be a flogger.

“Watch them and make yourself come,” I said.

I recalled the bastard implying he’d been to watch Zara’s shows at Eden Street, and how the colour had drained from her cheeks. Well, now we were going to even up the score. “It’s your turn to see a show and allow yourself to be turned on. Tonight you’re in the audience.”

She seemed to want to say something again.

“Speak,” I said.

“I don’t think I can do this, Sir.”

I smiled, knowing what I was about to say would ensure she did as I’d asked. “Ah, so who is the virgin
now
?”

Victor had certainly turned the tables. At first, I’d decided to indulge him. Play along with his little request so I could prove that he was born to be a sub just as I was born to be a Dominant. But what he’d said had hit a raw nerve. Him pointing out my double standards had rankled—actually, not him pointing it out, but that it had been there in the first place. My hurt at being used—no, I wasn’t hurt—my
disgust
at being used and that Geoffrey had lied to me all that time. He’d prevented me from seeing the bigger picture, the way I prided myself in being able to do so.

Now, with the heel of my hand pressed to my clit and three of my fingers firmly entrenched in my hole…
now
I could see why Geoffrey had switched. In my eyes, he was too much of a sub to be able to do Mastering full time, but perhaps he and Helen changed roles every so often? A bit like what Victor and I were doing now. Just for the fun of it. Maybe Geoffrey wasn’t a Dom at all, but a switch—there was a difference. A bloody big difference. It was as short-term as wearing someone else’s clothes, the way I was draped in Helen’s right now.

In the short time I’d been sitting here frigging my cunt, I realised that letting go of responsibility, of allowing Victor to call the shots, was as freeing as me being the one to issue orders. I wouldn’t want things to be this way all the time—no, the
Domme in me just wouldn’t allow it—but once in a while? Yes, I thought I could stretch to that. I‘d just have to hope Victor felt the same way—that he could only handle being Master every so often during our time together. But what about afterwards, when went our separate ways, would he find a girl and want to dominate? Damn, if she was vanilla he’d scare the shit out of her.

Oh, why was I thinking like that? It didn’t matter what he wanted in the future—it was none of my business how other women he met felt about his new sexual tastes. We were just exploring the here and now.

I stared at Geoffrey and Helen. He thrashed her as soundly as I’d once thrashed him, and I wondered whether he was tripping on bliss.

“Faster,” Victor said, coming to kneel in front of me, between my splayed legs. “Tilt your head so you can still see them around me.”

I did as he’d asked, yet my curiosity to watch him instead was strong and torrid. I wanted to know what he was going to do, but conversely, not knowing was turning me on more.

Geoffrey dropped the flogger, hitting her instead with the flat of his hand. Oh, he’d learned well from our time together. How different objects created different genres of pain and layered on top of each other to create a sublime sting.

Victor unzipped his trousers then tugged out his cock. He began a slow rhythm, at odds with the speed of mine, and it made me go faster—made me want some form of control even now, to see if
he
went faster.

He didn’t.

Damn, he was more on the ball than I’d thought.

Helen bucked, as much as she was able, chained up as she was. Geoffrey seemed to surge into her in slow motion, the length of him disappearing at an excruciatingly erotic pace. I wanted to be closer, to be right in that room with them, or watch them through the glass at Eden Street. All I was getting was a suggestion of what they were doing, not the real, in-my-face-in-glorious-detail experience.

“What are they doing, sub?” Victor asked.

“He’s smacking her buttock with his hand, Sir,” I said, my voice breathy.

“Is he still fucking her?”

“Yes, Sir. Hard.”

“How do you feel watching them? Does it make you more excited to know they have no clue that we’re here, and not only that, you’re ramming your fingers inside yourself and I’m wanking as you watch?”

“Yes…Sir.” And I didn’t feel ashamed, either. I’d long ago realised that taking pleasure through voyeurism wasn’t something dirty, not for me. It was an aide, a visual aide that enhanced my ecstasy and gave me mind-blowing orgasms. Tonight wouldn’t be any different. To know I didn’t feel anything for Geoffrey now was an absolute relief. If I did, how would I be able to stand watching him fuck someone else? No, those two were just actors in a porn movie—one I was enjoying watching.

“The same goes for me, slave,” Victor panted out. “Except I just have to imagine what they’re doing, because my main focus is on you. I want…ah, fuck…I want to watch your every single movement, see your face when you come, but I’ll have to imagine that too. The darkness…I hate the darkness.”

I smiled. Would he have said that before meeting me? I imagined he would have been more comfortable in obscurity. And now listen to him, wishing it was light so he could see what I was doing.

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” he said. “If I can’t see it—oh, Christ Almighty my cock’s hard—I want to know it.”

“I’m going to come soon, Sir. And it isn’t really them I want to watch, but you said I had to, so I must obey, Sir.”

“Who do you want to watch?”

“You. I want to stare at you while you come all over my tits. I want…fuck, Sir, it’s coming…”

“Look at me,” he near shouted. “Fucking look at me.”

Desire was raging inside me, pushing and pulsing, building to a level I hadn’t felt in a while. I stared at him, seeing nothing but his silhouette and wishing the moon was brighter, that it would give me some light in which to study him. I could just make out his hand going up and down his cock, speedier now. He moved closer, pointing his cock-tip to my chest. It came into contact with my skin, and the judders of him wanking transferred into me. I couldn’t hold back and lifted my chin, half-closing my eyes, trying to see his face but failing. All that was on offer was the dark grey shape of his head and the blurred tableau of Geoffrey and Helen to the right of it. But I could imagine what Victor looked like—eyes narrowed, his face taut with his concentration, jaw clenched, lips pulled back—and that visual sent me over the edge.