Chapter 10
Sam
The light brush of a feather moves across my torso, circling one nipple, then the other, sending waves of lust through me. My knees are getting sore from kneeling on the hard stone floor, and I’m faltering on the edge of pain and pleasure.
I’m panting, desperate for more. Her shoes click on the floor before me, but this silk scarf is tied so tightly around my eyes, my eyelids won’t budge. I’m dizzy and deliriously aroused from both her touch and my inability to sense what she will do next. I’ve been ready to come for a while, but I wait for her permission.
Drazen and I frequent Club Edge, a BDSM club in LA, when we’re home on breaks from Stanford, but we’ve always been here as observers, or occasionally we take a sub for a one-nighter to a private room.
Separately.
I’ve never been next to him, blindfolded and naked. His rough breaths and grunts invade my ears, making a similar pattern to my own. All my other senses heightened without my sight, I feel Madame Silk lean down and fill the space between us. She whispers praise for our obedience, but I jump when her fingers twist my nipple. This is why I’m hard as a rock. My balls ache, and all I can do is concentrate on holding back my orgasm until I’m told otherwise.
“Ladies,” she calls.
I hear shuffling on the floor in front of me.
“Boys, stand up.”
Barely able to straighten my legs to stand, the next sensation I feel is a tongue sliding from the root to the tip of my cock. I push my hips forward, which I quickly realize is a mistake when I feel the sting of a slap to my ass.
“Don’t move,” Madame says with a deep, authoritative voice.
“Ah! Yes, ma’am.” I gasp again. The pain sending me closer to the edge, about to blow all over whoever is in front of me.
Madame removes my blindfold, and as my eyes adjust to the soft, yellow light, I see Belladonna before me—well, that’s her name when she’s here at the club anyway. Her arms are tied behind her back, tits pointing straight up at me, as her dark curls cascade down her back. She smiles, looking up at me.
Following Madame’s instructions, Belladonna takes the tip of my cock in her mouth and moans, her expression turning to ecstasy. I look at Madame, and she winks. I never know what she has planned for her parties, but I’m usually rewarded in some way. I smile back before returning my attention to Belladonna’s head now bobbing up and down the long shaft of my cock. She takes every inch, deepthroating like a good girl.
My shouts of release spill into the room, and I come so hard, leaving spurts of come on her face and in her hair. The room starts to darken in the euphoria of my orgasm. As I sweat and shake, my restraints are released and Belladonna helps me to the bed behind us. She lies beside me, cooing appreciation in my ear.
When I recover, I smile and kiss her, flip her onto her back, take a swig of bourbon from the glass on the table beside me, and bury my face in her pussy, ready to return the favor.
My laptop starts to slip off my lap, and catching it startles me back to the present. I look around in a daze, slowly catching my bearings.
Huh. Well, that was interesting.
I push the ottoman away with my feet and bring the recliner back into a sitting position. I must have completely zoned out while I was scanning security video for the guy who has been loitering around the Stock. I rub my face with my hands, wondering why I was daydreaming about those long-lost days. I haven’t thought about them for years, and I’m perfectly happy that I left that lifestyle behind. It’s just like Debbie the Yenta to invade my daydreams like that. Jonathan and Fiona introduced us during a phase in my life when I was into dominant play, and she and I remained friends. Even though I’m technically her boss, we all know Debbie is really the one in charge at the Stock.
After a hard jack off in the shower, my head is finally clear. I need to go in to work.
After walking into the Stock, I invite Debbie to meet in my office to review the security footage. She finds and clips the footage of the guy, and we zoom in. He looks like a real punk: brown hair, built, sloppy cargo shorts, and flip-flops. What kind of dick shows up dressed like that at a place like this?
“He caused quite the scene. We told him not to come back. He was pretty drunk before he even came in,” she says, watching him staggering around and spilling his drink.
“Did Robert see him?” I ask. He’s our broodish bartender who’s the size of a bouncer. He’s here all the time, whereas the bouncers are only here in the evenings.
“I’m not sure. Send it to me and I’ll make sure he sees it. I’ll email security. Maybe it’s time to add another guy,” she says, walking out my office door.
Good. Problem solved. Hopefully. Now I can go home and see what Lupita has packed for my trip tomorrow.
On my drive home, I can’t get that guy out of my head. There was something about him that wasn’t quite familiar, but I feel as if I should know who he is. Maybe all punks look alike when they’re making a scene. Debbie was right in booting his ass out, but I have a feeling we’ll be seeing this guy again.