Chapter Twenty-One - Bric
I grab hold of her hand before she gets away, not wanting to let her go. But she tugs me and brings me with her down the long hallway, on the opposite side of the apartment from her bedroom.
I have a million questions as she leads me into her ballet studio and flicks on the lights.
“This,” she says, “is the only room that matters.”
It’s fairly large as far as rooms go in downtown apartments. But this place is company-owned so it makes sense they’d have a studio for their resident dancer. The floors are blond hardwood. One of the long-sided walls is covered in mirrors and has a ballet barre running its length. The opposite wall is aged red brick.
“I like the mirrors,” I say.
She snickers. “I bet you do.”
I turn to her, place my hands exactly where they were back in the living room, and grip her hips tight as I pull her close again. “Stand very still, Nadia Wolfe.”
She scrunches up her eyebrows, like she’s about to ask a question, but my hands are already sliding down the curve of her hips, then her thighs, and then the soft leather boots hiding her calves as I crouch down.
Her pussy is right in front of my face. But there’s plenty of time for that later. I’m interested in her boots.
I reach around the back of one leg and tug the zippier down. “Don’t fall, Nadia,” I say, lifting up her foot as I pull the boot off.
She steadies herself with two hands on my shoulders. “Don’t drop me, Elias.”
I grin up at her, tossing the boot aside. Then go for the other one. Two seconds later her bare calves are in front of me and my hands can’t help themselves. I press my palms against her well-toned muscles and lean my face into her thigh, kissing the soft skin between her legs. When I nip, she sucks in air between her teeth and places her hands on the top of my head. Urging me on. Practically begging for more.
I stand up instead, place my hands on her shoulders, and turn her around. “Lift up your hair,” I say.
She obeys. Which is a very nice change after all the power plays we’ve had over the past several days.
The zipper on her dress comes next. I peel the soft cashmere off her shoulders, let it fall down her arms, and then it rests on her hips for a moment, until one small tug gets it around the curve of her ass and it puddles at her feet.
“Turn back,” I say.
She faces me. Studies me as I study her. Bites her lip as all the questions flood her mind.
She’s wearing light pink lingerie. A beautiful satin demi-bra. Not the girlish kind with lace or bows, but the womanly kind with no trim, just purpose—because her breasts don’t need decorations. I take a moment to touch them, looking Nadia in the eyes as I squeeze her. Fondle her. Then I lean in and kiss her.
Her fingertips are in my hair and it’s a passionate response. Her longing and desire a total turn-on.
When I break eye contact it’s to look at her panties, a matching pink satin thong that can’t hide the fact that her pussy is bare and smooth. I place my hand between her legs, one finger positioned between her folds, and push a finger against her clit.
The panties become wet.
I nod my head to the corner of the room where she’s got a few pairs of pointe shoes scattered around. “Put on the shoes, Nadia.”
She looks over to the corner, stares at it like her brain needs a moment to catch up with the request, then looks at me.
I’m waiting for another fight. I’m not sure what she could possibly object to with that request, but I’m sure she’ll think of something.
But I’m surprised again. Because she turns away, walks over to the shoes, and sits down on the floor. One leg up, bent at the knee, the other resting on the floor so her legs are open.
She doesn’t smile at me or try to take control—and I think that might be my favorite thing about her right now. Not her body, or her beauty, or the potential for a great fuck tonight. But her compliance.
She slips a pad over her toes, her eyes flicking up to mine before returning to concentrate on her assigned task. I study her fingers as she slips her foot into the shoe, tugging on the elastic, and then twists the long satin ribbons around her ankle.
She repeats this on the other foot. She stretches her feet out, flexing and pointing to make sure they’re comfortable, and then she looks up at me and says, “Now what?”
Such a good girl tonight. I almost don’t know what to make of it.
“Now,” I say, crossing the distance between us until I’m looming over her and she has to crane her neck to look up at me. “Now you’re going to pay for not being on your best behavior tonight, Miss Wolfe.” I extend my hand, she takes it, and I pull her to her feet. “I bought a house to make you happy and I don’t think you were happy.”
She stares at me, with a look of genuine fascination on her face. “Thank you,” she says. “And I mean that. I don’t need the house, Elias. But it’s a grand gesture, for sure.”
“I’m invested, Nadia. I want you to understand that.”
“I get it,” she says.
“I don’t think you do. If you did, you wouldn’t have treated me so badly tonight. I’m afraid I can’t stand for it.” Every word comes out crisp and clear. But there’s no anger in them. No animosity.
“So punish me,” she says, unable to hide her smirk.
“I plan on it. Go to the wall,” I say, pointing at the brick. “And stand in second, en pointe.”
She bites her lip but doesn’t say another word.
She likes this, I realize. Everything about this moment is easy for her because she likes it. She likes the shoes, she likes this room, and the thought of me challenging her in her element makes her happy.
I’ll have to remember that.
But she gets it wrong immediately, and that makes me smile. “Face the wall, Nadia.”
“OK,” she says, coming off pointe so her feet are flat on the floor. She turns and faces the brick, then places her palms on the wall to steady herself and rises up, legs slightly spread apart.
God, she’s beautiful. I can see every muscle in her legs. Her back is straight and firm. Her head is high, neck stretched long, and her shoulders relaxed.
Her element.
I walk over to her and stand right behind her. Wishing for the wall with the mirrors so I could see her face. But then she’d be able to see my face too, and we don’t want that.
I place my hands on her waist and press my groin into her ass. She looks down for a moment, losing her concentration. “Do you want me to fuck you, Nadia?”
“Yes.” It comes out as a breath.
“I bet you do. But we’re not even close to that yet. I have to punish you, remember?”
“Yes,” she breathes again.
“How long can you stand like this?” I ask her.
“Long time,” she says.
“Give me a number, please.”
She takes a moment to think. And I wonder if she’ll shortchange herself to try to spare her muscles some pain tonight.
“Ten minutes,” she says.
“OK,” I say, taking out my phone and pulling up my camera. “I’ll be back in thirty. And just in case you think you can cheat, I’m going to film you, Nadia.” I set a timer on the phone, walk over to the other side of the room, adjust the camera so it’s front-facing, and prop it against the wall, positioning it until she’s centered in the frame.
“Be good,” I say, exiting the room. “Because I’ll know if you’re not and then I’ll really make you work hard to please me tonight.”
I go to her bedroom and stand in the doorway. She’s got clothes on the floor. Mostly dance clothes. Some shoes. Her bed is unmade, the sheets all askew. It makes me wonder if she’s ever had another man up here. Aside from Jordan.
I’ll have to ask her about that.
I sit on the bed, then lie back and close my eyes. Picturing her asleep in this very spot. I can smell her shampoo on the pillow.
What makes Nadia Wolfe tick? I’m not quite sure yet, but ballet is definitely a big part of it. You don’t get this far in that art without serious dedication.
I drift off but then wake, the alarm I set a distant ringing on the other side of the apartment.
I wonder how long it’s been going off?
My feet find the floor and I’m in motion. When I get to the ballet room, she’s breathing so hard, I hear it before I pass through the door.
“Everything OK, Nadia?” I ask.
“Fine,” she says through deep breaths.
Her legs are shaking so bad, I can see her trembles from across the room.
When I get close enough to touch her, I place both on my hands on her hips and say, “Relax.”
Her feet collapse and she places her head against the wall, spent.
“Did you cheat?” I ask her.
“Once,” she says. “When the alarm went off and you didn’t come back. I had to,” she whispers, looking over her shoulder at me. “I needed a rest.”
“Hmm,” I say. “Is that the only time?”
She nods her head and when I look into her eyes, I see that she’s on the verge of tears.
“I’m going to check, if that’s OK. Is that OK?”
“Yes,” she says.
How perfect. The only way she could possibly make this better is if she had put a Master on the end of that response. “From now on, Nadia, when you address me while we’re playing, you call me Master. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
It’s pretty convincing. So I accept her submission as genuine and walk over to pick up my phone. Fast forward through the footage, and yes, she did cheat. Right after the alarm went off. And she continued to cheat for two minutes. In fact, she must’ve heard my footsteps on the hardwood floors as I made my way across the apartment, but she goes back up en pointe just before I enter the room.
“Did you like this, Nadia?” I ask her.
“Yes, Master.”
Good God. I get hard at that.
“But you did more than just cheat, Nadia. You waited until you knew I was coming back before you resumed. Tsk, tsk, tsk,” goes my tongue. “So I’m going to have to punish you for that as well. Back up, darling. Just the way you were.”
She sighs, almost sobs. But she obeys.
I walk over to her and place my hands on her hips. “Spread your legs wider,” I say.
She draws in a breath and that is definitely a sob. But she submits in silence.
Her feet inch apart, her legs opening.
“Wider,” I say.
A few more inches and she’s groaning with effort now.
“Just a little bit wider. You can do it, Nadia,” I say, encouraging her. “I know you can.”
Her sob is loud this time. But her legs open farther. Just an inch, maybe not even. But wider is wider and I know she’s really struggling now. Her legs are shaking so bad, it’s got to be painful.
“Now take your hands off the wall and—”
“I can’t,” she says, reaching her breaking point. “I can’t do it. I’m too tired.”
“Take them off the wall, Nadia. And place them on your thighs.”
She shakes her head no, her head drooping in defeat. “I can’t.”
“You can,” I say, removing one of her hands from the wall and placing it on her thigh. She grips her leg hard. And she’s still shaking her head no when I lift her other hand off the wall and place it on her other thigh.
Now she is spread eagle, en pointe, and she is crying hard. Her sobs are loud and her breathing hitched and uneven as she struggles to stay in position. Her whole body shakes and just as she’s about to give up, I wrap my arms around her and hold her steady. She melts into me. Her back pressing into my chest, using me to support herself.
But she stays en pointe.
“You’re a good girl, Nadia,” I say, practically cooing the words into her ear. “A very, very good girl.”
“Thank you, Master,” she says through her sobs.
“And do you know what good girls get?” I ask.
“Tell me, Master.”
“My hard, thick cock in her mouth. Would you like that?”
“Yes, Master,” she says.
I don’t know if she really means it. Probably not. I’m pretty sure she’ll say anything to rest her feet right now. Her knees are bent, her perfect posture so far in the past, I’m the only thing holding her up at the moment.
But I don’t care. Giving up is giving in.
“Drop to your knees,” I say, letting go of her body.
She does. Like immediately.
I back away. Several steps away. And say, “Stay on your knees and turn around.”
She scoots her body around so she’s facing me. Her face is bright red with exertion. She’s sweating profusely, her whole body glistening in the soft light.
“Crawl to me, Nadia.”
She leans forward on her hands and then crawls. Looking down at the planks of hardwood beneath her, hair dragging.
“Look at me,” I say.
She looks up as I back away and then another sob escapes when she realizes I’m still playing with her. It’s not over yet. I continue to back up and she continues to crawl. I lead her like that, all the way down the hallway, across the living room, and into her bedroom.
I sit on her rumpled bed and let her finally reach her goal. She stays on all fours in front of me, head drooping again.
She’s done.
I pet her, drag my hand over her sweat-soaked hair, and say, “Scoot up as close as you can get, sit back on your butt, and take out my cock.”
She scoots. Sits back. And looks me in the eyes as she begins to unbuckle my belt.
I smile at her, still petting her hair. “Ballet, Nadia.”
“What?” she asks, her voice weak and small. Her fingers desperate to unbutton my pants. But she fumbles, every muscle in her body spent.
“That’s your weakness. Ballet. You submit to it like a good little slave. And now that I know that, I will use it against you every chance I get.”
Another sob escapes, but she doesn’t deny it or fight back.
Total. One hundred percent. Submission.
She gets past the button and drags the zipper down. And then her hand is pulling me out. Already pumping my hard shaft even though I never gave that order. If I hadn’t already pushed her past her limit, I might punish her for that. But she’s done. I’m happy with her performance, and now it’s time for her reward.
“Put me in your mouth, Nadia. And suck my cock until I come down your throat.”
I enjoy the anticipation as she licks her lips and lowers her head into my lap. I enjoy it so much I close my eyes and lower myself back onto the soft blankets on the bed. Then her hot breath is there, a flick of her tongue. I feel her rise up onto her knees to reach me, even feel her body trembling from the effort.
She covers me. Devours me. Licks and sucks me. Her hands pumping. I place my hands on her head again. Lightly. Gently. And encourage her.
It doesn’t take me long. Either she’s very good at this or I’m just ready as hell. But does it matter? Does it matter at all when everything is so perfect?
I come in her throat. She swallows me, her throat muscles contracting against the tip of my cock. And when I’m done, I push on her forehead to let her know it’s over.
I open my eyes just in time to see her wipe her mouth and sit back on her butt.
“It’s your turn, Nadia. You were perfect tonight. And I’m going to show you how much I appreciate that right now.”
“Thank you, Master,” she says through her frown.
Perfection.