Velvet Submission (9 page)

She turned and felt the chain loosen, an indication he was on his feet. She sauntered around the perimeter of the dance floor and then cut through the public area.

They passed the bar, and a flash of red brought her attention to Mistress Anne. Megan recognized it was a spiteful and childish thing to do, but she gave the woman a deliberately sweet and vacuous smile. Anne returned the smile with an equally sugary and false expression. A low huff of laughter brought her attention to her rebellious sub.

"Just what do you find so amusing about my shoes, sugar?"

"It is just that you so clearly hate her," he responded, deep voice warm with amusement.

"And you know this
how
?" Megan stopped and turned to face him. Gregori's eyes were firmly back on the floor, but he couldn't quite hide his little flinch when he realized she'd caught him disobeying.

"I apologize, Mistress," he murmured contritely. "I will do better."

The big, Russian idiot actually thought she would let it go!

"I know you will, Sug. Starting now." She watched him expectantly, and he stood staring at her toes, all innocence. When it became clear he wasn't going to move on his own, she wrapped the leash around her fist, shortening the length until he was forced to move to his knees or choke.

"Now that's much better," she praised, and turned to continue her walk.

She may have put him in a humbling position, but damn he looked good there. With each movement across the floor, muscles in his back flexed under gleaming skin. And, oh, my, but those black leathers showcased a perfect round ass you could bounce a quarter off of.

Megan paraded them around the public rooms and then back to her own. She kept the door to her private room open, a move which brought Gregori's head up in a questioning look. She shook a scolding finger at him, and his eyes immediately dropped. With a smile she suspected would have terrified him had he been allowed to see it, she hooked the chain to the wall and strolled over to her wall of toys.

"It's your lucky day, Sug. What device would you like for me to use?"

"The crop and the long flogger."

His answer intrigued her. Everything she'd seen, and everything he'd said hinted that his craving for pain was nearly endless. For a split second Megan imagined him as a lover. Was he even capable of sex that was long and slow and full of passion, or would he need pain then, too? And if he did, would that be a problem for her? The welling moisture between her thighs said no, no problem at all. She cut the thought off abruptly. It wouldn't help her keep her control and prove her point if she allowed herself to get caught up in that sort of fantasy. She grabbed the crop and flogger and moved to his side.

"You are certainly a sight in those pants, sugar, but I think they need to go." She wandered lazily around him, drawing the tails of the flogger along the small of his back and smiling at his slight shudder. "Strip," she ordered.

He peeled the tight leathers off in a slow, smooth movement. His cock, half hard and growing by the second, sprang free, and she licked her lips, wondering how good he would taste against her tongue.

His small, rough laugh brought her eyes to his face. The dim lights couldn't hide the glint of triumph in his gray eyes, nor, she was sure, did they hide the hint of arrogant irritation in hers.

"Tell me what you're thinking, Gregori." She had a good idea what that was, and the man needed to be reminded—again—of his place.

"I am thinking that I like how you look at me, Mistress." His lips curved in satisfaction. "I am thinking that I like how much you want me."

Now it was Megan's turn to laugh.

"Oh, sugar, of course I'm gonna look. For tonight all this," she raked her nails lightly down his chest, let her fingers tangle in the mat of silky hair above his cock and tugged sharply, "all of this is mine. Why wouldn't I look at my property?"

She picked up a small bottle of Indian tobacco oil, a recommendation from Kennie, who would never have guessed the uses Megan would have for the stuff, and tipped the bottle over the top of his chest. The slick substance slid down the formidable muscles, glittering in the low light as it traced the ridges of his abdomen. She walked behind him and repeated the process, her eyes locked in fascination on the sight of the oil disappearing between his ass cheeks.

"Since you are so sure about how I feel about Domming you, then I have a challenge of my own." She unclipped the leash from his collar and directed him to stand in the center of the room. "I won't be tying your hands. You will stand with them laced behind your head and take every little thing I'm gonna dish out without breaking position."

The cocky smile on his lips pissed Megan off. He'd dared her, and he really thought he was going to win. He was in for a rude awakening.

She massaged the oil deeply into his back to allow it to penetrate into his skin. She dug her fingertips into hard slabs of muscle, and allowed her hands to glide around his ribcage and over his tight abs.

She stroked the hard planes of his chest, pausing at his nipples to scrape with her nails and twist hard. He grunted and leaned into her touch.

Megan slid around him, suddenly craving the sight of the velvety flesh she was stroking. She allowed her fingers to trail down his flat stomach, then moved around the tops of his thighs, avoiding touching his bobbing penis and tight sac. Instead, she dribbled more of the oil along the ridge of his cock. He sucked in his bottom lip with a sharp gasp as the heat penetrated his sensitive skin.

*

Megan stood back and just watched him, letting her eyes coast over his body as one by one his muscles tightened in response. He'd thought, mistakenly it seemed, and that she'd been devouring his dick with her eyes earlier because she couldn't resist him. Now he was coming to realize that she'd been appraising him as one would a prime piece of horse-flesh. As if he were an object, a slave in truth.

"You've been very insistent that I'm denying us the entirety of what we could experience together," she mused, petting him with oil-slick hands. "But it seems to me, sugar, that I'm not the only one holding back."

Gregori's eyes whipped to hers before he could control it. "Mistress?"

She gave him an almost gentle smile and pointedly looked at the ground. He followed her gaze, adjusting his posture and keeping his position.

"You've been trying to run the show from the very beginning, sugar. You've challenged and pushed and pursued and ignored me every time I've said no." She reached up to stroke her fingers through his sweat-damp hair, scratching her nails lightly over his scalp.

"My only wish is to serve you, Mistress," he swore, and he meant it, but…

"Sugar, it seems to me that what you want is for me to serve you. You've mapped out in your head exactly how I should Domme you, how I should respond to your surrender, and what that should mean for us outside the club."

Was she right? He hadn't intended it, but everything she said felt true.

"You want to serve me? You want me to Domme you? If you want the full experience, Sug, you're gonna have to give me some of that surrender you keep talking about."

She waited him out in silence for several long minutes while he processed her words. Finally he shifted, and she seemed to understand he was ready to speak because she murmured, "Tell me what's on your mind."

"It was unintentional, Mistress." His voice was low, almost inaudible, but he couldn't manage any more force. "I want you, not only as my Mistress, but as my lover," he admitted—like it had been a secret. "I've never felt so strongly connected to someone. It has colored my actions."

"Are you ready to give up control?"

Gregori risked another look up, needing to drown in those ocean-blue eyes. There was only one answer to give her.

"I'm yours, Megan. Use me as you will."

"All right, then." Her eyes warmed, as did her smile. She leaned in and pressed her cheek to his, giving him the moment of affection he suddenly desperately needed. Then she stepped back, grasping the crop, and began to circle him slowly, reminding him of a hungry shark, and he felt uncomfortably like bait.

Just when his tension was at its most painful, she raised the crop and tapped lightly along his upper chest. The skin pinkened vividly under her ministrations and the effects of the oil. He was in hell, he was in heaven, and he was going to kill Sin if he was the one who'd given her this magic potion. Gregori had tried it once before, when he was alone, and the sensations it had produced had been mind numbing. This batch seemed even more potent, and having her spread it on his body with her soft fingers had his skin so fucking sensitive a puff of air from between her lips would send him over the edge.

"Hmmmm," she stepped back and laid down the crop and tucked the handle of the flogger in the back of her tight white jeans. Then she grasped his cock with firm fingers and began to play her nails along the length. "You seem inordinately proud of this. So I think it deserves some special attention."

She released him, and he hissed a breath of relief and despair. Her hand felt too fucking good. She moved back to the toy cupboard against the wall, and returned with a hand full of slim rubber straps.

Oh, God
. He realized what her plan was, and realized he was going to have to bear it. Bear it without breaking position. He wanted to reach down and grab her hand, pull it back to his aching dick and beg for relief. Instead he gritted his teeth, closed his eyes and waited to be carried away.

She took her time, winding the stretchy straps around and around the length of his shaft. They were just tight enough to sting, but he knew that once she started working him his dick would surge larger and the straps would tighten to the point of pain. Just the thought of it had his dick jerking in her grasp, causing her to laugh a little as she tied off the strap just beneath the head.

She paused a minute, examining her handiwork and letting him catch his breath, then wrapped another strap snugly around his scrotum. She hooked a small weight to the strap, and the resulting tug mingled pain and pleasure until Gregori wasn't sure which he was feeling.

His chest was working like a bellows, his breath ragged and loud in the quiet room. He heard an admiring murmur, and he snapped open his eyes to see two club regulars watching through the open door.

He'd done scenes in public before, though not at Velvet Ice since he'd come to work there, but something about having others watch him with Megan felt so fucking wrong. He was glaring at the voyeurs when she snapped her fingers in front of his face.

"Who do you belong to, Sug?" That honey and magnolia voice was hard.

"You, Mistress."

"Then where should your attention be?"

"On you, Mistress."

"Then keep it there."

Her command helped. He was able to shut out the observers, to focus solely on her.

Once she had his cock and balls firmly trussed, she pulled the flogger free of her waistband and flicked it lightly, letting the leather tails patter softly against his chest and abdomen. Slowly the intensity of her blows increased, until his skin was on fire, his cock was like a flaming brand, and his head was about to explode. She paused, drawing out the moment, and he couldn't hold back a low moan of anticipation.

Her next blow came much harder across the top of his thigh and he didn't bother trying to suppress his cry as the sting of the crop nipped the tip of his dick. God, how he wanted this woman, in every way possible.

Watching over her for the better part of a year, he'd gotten to know her better than she realized. He knew her job was a difficult one where she witnessed life and death and bloody tragedy on a daily basis. She worked hard, she played hard. She was loyal to her friends, of which there were many. She was fearless and mischievous and had a core of kindness and strength that he yearned to tap.

No, she wasn't a stranger to him, nor was he to her. He felt connected to her, drawn to not only her Domme skills—which were perfect—but also to her beauty, her sweet southern charm. There was such a softness shining behind her eyes. Gregori wanted to wallow in all that she was, bathe himself in her scent and her body. He would worship her forever; he would protect her and make sure that she received all she desired from life if she would only let him.

"Don't break your position." The flogger was no longer kissing his body. Her voice rang out in the room, drawing him out of his reverie. He laced his hands more tightly behind his head. The pain in his shoulders set in and he drew strength from it.

At his back, the sudden smack of the crop sent lightning flashing over his body. She started at his shoulders, just below his clasped hands, and worked her way methodically down the length of his back. Gregori felt himself sway with the blows. He kept his position, but it was a struggle. Not that he wanted to protect himself, or stop her. The struggle was in not turning and falling to his knees; in not wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face against her body.

The crop moved lower, pausing to pay loving attention to his ass before biting its way down one thigh and up the other. Gregori was close, so close to that moment when excruciating pain and unbearable pleasure fused. Just a few strikes more, he knew, and he'd go flying. He'd taken the long, lazy tumble into what was known as "sub space" only a few times in his life. As intense as the experience was, it was almost scary to him. He preferred the pain, the struggle between mind and body and will. Somehow, though, with Megan he knew sub space would be different, and he craved it like an addict craved his fix.

"Too much, Sug?" Her voice licked over his skin as violently as the crop, and he shuddered under the lash.

"No, Mistress." Did he say the words out loud? He must have, because her low, husky laugh stroked over each stinging triangular mark from the crop.

"Want more?"

"Yes," he gasped. He was shaking uncontrollably, one long shudder of sensation. "Please, yes, Mistress."

"You are so beautiful, Gregori." Her voice came soft and sweet. Her touch was just as gentle. She stroked lovingly over the marks on his back, pressing lightly and causing the heat to flare with each touch. He swore he could feel her lips on the marks, the light dart of her tongue followed by a soft breath of air that ignited the Indian tobacco oil and her marks on his back into a conflagration of agonizing ecstasy.