Six
When dessert arrived it was a steaming, frothy raspberry soufflé. It looked heavenly, but I frowned at it. My appetite had all but disappeared these last few months, but how could I resist something so beautiful when it was placed directly under my nose? Guessing that I might need a few calories inside me if I wanted to get through the session tomorrow, I decided that it wouldn’t hurt to indulge myself. As it happened, I didn’t have any choice in the matter.
“I tell you what. If you eat that up, I’ll tell you what might commence after the warm-up has been completed.”
He raised his eyebrows at me in challenge, but I hardly needed any more encouragement. Picking up my spoon, I plunged it into the warm mousse and scooped up a generous helping of fluff. “Obeying your every command, oh revered one.”
“Good girl,” he replied, and those two words sent a shudder down my spine. Already, I could see myself crawling around the floor for him, listening for the smallest sounds of encouragement as I tried my hardest to please him. There was a good chance I might make a much better submissive than he thought. I suspected that in the heat of the moment, I’d do anything to please that beautiful face and body.
“So, after we experiment for a bit, I’ll probably up the ante. As you appear to have no limits, our capacity for fun is endless. I have a fully equipped dungeon, and there are all manner of things we could try. Clamps, anal training, forced orgasms, enemas, branding, cattle prods, electro-play, hypoxyphilia, TENS play, or we could even crack open the violet wand.”
He wanted to shock me - that much was obvious. Half of what he’d just said could have been in another language for all the sense it made to me. It was probably for the best. I gave him my brightest smile, fed myself another delicious mouthful of soufflé, and said, “Whatever you think best.”
“You understood barely a word of that, right?”
Letting the soufflé disintegrate on my tongue, managing to pick out the tartness of the raspberries whilst comparing it against the sweet, creamy meringue, I took my own sweet time in replying. “This is really good,” I finally managed, using my spoon to point at my decimated dessert plate.
He gave me a look that was halfway between frustration and anger. For a man whom I suspected rarely lost control, I considered the reaction quite an achievement on my part.
“Do you want to know what I do with really naughty submissives in my care?” His voice was dangerously low, and I suspected that I wasn’t going to like this much.
“Is that a trick question?” I asked, doing my best not to look at him as I scraped the insides of my ramekin out.
He continued talking as if he hadn’t heard me. “When they strip naked, I place them in front of a mirror. It’s a little mean, because it’s when they’re feeling the most vulnerable, but I get them in front of a floor-length mirror and tell them to masturbate themselves to the point of orgasm three times. It tells me several things all at once. I get to know how familiar they are with their own bodies, how much stamina they have, and how aroused they are at the thought of me watching.”
“The alternative warm-up, huh? What do you do for an encore?” I pushed my plate away, satisfied that I’d scraped the contents clean, and risked a look at him. It was a mistake. He caught me and, like a pair of headlights on a pitch-black night, I was blinded.
He knew he had me. The bastard in front of me was so self-assured and confident that it bordered on arrogance, although I didn’t know him well enough to confirm my suspicions. He certainly knew the power his body had over women, and it would be a mistake to underestimate him. His brain also seemed to function better than the average male’s, and that was reason enough to be wary.
“I strap innocent-looking girls down upon my medical exam table, uncaring that they have no idea of what they’re getting themselves into. I then fasten their wrists in thick black cuffs, and I secure their legs into stirrups so they’re spread nice and wide for me.” He gave me a wicked grin as he waited for that to sink in, and while I knew he was toying with me, imagining myself being opened for him like that was doing funny things to my libido.
“Then I get out an array of scalpels, tubes, clamps, and speculums, and generally keep you on the edge of orgasm whilst scaring the shit out of you.”
Two cups of espresso coffee landed heavily in front us, and the waiter gave James a horrified look. Dumping his silver tray of creamer and sugar in the middle of the table, he ran away as fast as his legs could carry him. Unable to help myself, I dissolved into fits of laughter. James, to his credit, looked a little embarrassed. Covering his eyes with his hands, it was clear he was also laughing.
“I really must remember to lower my voice when saying shit like that,” he finally managed to get out, when we’d both recovered.
“Might be prudent,” I said, pressing my lips together to prevent further fits of giggles.
“Are you ticklish, by any chance?” He was examining me again, like I was a tiny bug under a microscope, and I knew that everything he learned today would be filed away for later.
“You’ll get your chance to figure that out, hotshot. Right now, I want to hear more about the earlier scenario you were talking about,” I wasn’t entirely sure if that was true, but I was curious, and if I was going to get myself into really deep water, to be forewarned was to be forearmed.
“If I continue, I’m just going to scare the fuck out of you. I can already see it in your eyes. Why don’t you fill out that limits form and we’ll talk about something a little tamer? It’s best to work up to the more intense forms of play. I certainly don’t want you throwing a whitey on me, mid-scene.”
My lips drew together in a puzzled frown. “A what?”
He rolled his eyes. “A white out or grey out. Some people have an adverse reaction to some forms of play, especially if I’m pushing their limits, and pass out. It’s just a mild form of shock, but having unconscious females all over the place is bad for business, as I’m sure you can imagine.”
I snorted to myself. “You’re not going to have that problem with me. You might have other problems, but that won’t be one of them.”
“That’s what you say now, but it might be a whole other kettle of fish when you’re strapped down.” He looked me up and down for about the fiftieth time that day. “You already look like you’re on the verge of passing out, and probably haven’t eaten a decent meal in forever.”
“Well, thank goodness you’ve fed me today, so I’ll be in tip top shape for your evil games tomorrow,” I said. He was right, though. It had been nine months since I had eaten a single meal with more than four hundred calories. Surprisingly, my stomach hadn’t rebelled at the feast before me, but if I was going to get back into racing shape, I would need to pay attention to my nutritional needs. Taking a sip of my coffee,
I inhaled a lungful of black magic and almost swooned. “What is this?” My eyes devoured the contents of the cup in wonder.
“If you go into shock this easily, Ms. Reeves, we have a problem.” Picking up his delicate, black espresso cup, he took a sip of his own. He gave himself a few seconds to consider the flavour. “Citrus with lemon and maple syrup notes, in my opinion. “I’d say it was Ethiopian Sidamo.”
My jaw dropped in awe, but then my look turned disbelieving. “There is no way you can tell the brand of coffee bean from just one sip.” I shook my head.
“The study of coffee has become something of a personal calling, but you can ask the waiter if you don’t believe me.” He looked supremely confident in his statement, and for some reason, I expected he was right on the money.
“Yeah, right. Like he’s still talking to us,” I eventually said. We both laughed.
“So, what now, Ms. Reeves? Are you finished with your interrogation? Naughty girls need their beauty sleep, I hear.” Those damn eyes were laughing at me again.
“I need a bedtime story first,” I said. “Finish the earlier scenario, and then I promise I’ll let you get your beauty sleep. Let’s face it: You need it more than I do.” I gave him a friendly wink.
He looked comically affronted for a moment, but then his wicked gleam was back. “Ms. Reeves. Oh, Ms. Reeves, I am so looking forward to working with you and your smart mouth tomorrow.” He sucked on his bottom lip, and it was all I could do not to reach across the table and eat him. My hands had to clutch the bottom of my chair again to ensure this did not happen.
“C’mon, please?” The pleading note in my voice was strange, even to my ears, and I was beginning to suspect there was more to this BDSM stuff than met the eye. My body currently felt like it was being force-fed oysters, while someone super-charged all the little androgens and estrogens that were floating around, forcing them to watch TV shows containing Damon Salvatore or Charlie Hunnam over and over again. Suffice to say, I was uncomfortably aroused and actively seeking my own destruction, by the looks of it.
“No. You can be a good girl, sit quietly, and we’ll talk about the weather or something.” His tone of voice indicated that was the end of the matter, but I wasn’t about to back down.
Moving forward, my face crowding him inside our little two-seater table, I said, “Seriously. I’ll give you anything you want if you’ll just finish your earlier scene. You have piqued my curiosity.” If my eyes were pleading before, they had now turned Bambi.
He looked at me with one of those looks generally reserved for small children who have been very naughty. It was slightly patronising and a whole lot of exasperated. That turned me on, too. I wanted to slap my forehead at the realisation of what he was doing to me. “One of these days, you’ll learn to think first and act later. You seem to rush into everything you do with a kind of foolhardy energy that will get you, at best, injured, and at worst, killed.”
He was reading me like a book. I think my latest psychological evaluation had my therapist stating nearly the same thing. It was annoying and frustrating. To even out the score in my favour, I pouted at him prettily and hoped for the best.
Eventually, after several seconds of perfecting my pleading look, he caved. “Fine. Anything I want, huh?”
“Anything,” I affirmed breathlessly, knowing that if it was something I couldn’t handle, the option of running out on him was still available.
He went silent as he considered my request. His head tilted this way and that as he thought about his options and, finally, a hint of a smile crossed his features. Picking up the flickering candle that had been positioned to the left of us, he tipped it from side to side in his hands. I wasn’t entirely sure I was going to like where this was going, but I guessed it could have been worse.
“Heard of wax play?” He dropped two spots of wax onto his forearm and didn’t bat an eyelid. It set me to wondering whether he could take pain as well as dish it out.
“I’m guessing it doesn’t have anything to do with cleaning out your eardrums?” My insouciant grin was guaranteed to annoy him and, sure enough, he gave me an irritated frown in response.
“All of your sarcastic comments are being added up and jotted down in my head. Your buttocks will be on the receiving end of your misbehaviour tomorrow, Ms. Reeves, so bear that in mind.”
I grinned at him. “So what do you want me to do? Dribble wax down my arm and try not to cry like a baby?”
He pondered that for a second, then said, “Well, that’s not exactly how I’d have put it, but yes, I guess that’ll do.”
He held out the glass candleholder, and I had to tease it from his fingers. He seemed to enjoy the contact between us, whilst I wanted to shy away from it. When I’d finally wrested it free from his grasp, his hand lingered in mid-air, and he looked lost for a moment. The implacable mask was back seconds later, and I wondered if my mind was playing tricks on me, but I was trained to notice these things. It’s not something I would have imagined. The chemistry wasn’t one-sided. What a shame. What a fucking shame. In another lifetime, we could have made the marriage altar, if that had ever been a goal of mine, which it hadn’t. There was just something about him, something that I wanted to keep for myself. With a shake of my head, I brought myself back to the present and peered into the candleholder.
As I had expected, there was molten wax, and lots of it. The candle had been burning for a couple of hours at least. Now, I could sit here all day and debate the burning temperature of the wax and whether it would be too hot for my skin to bear, or I could just get the fuck on with it. Half of this crap was just mind over matter, anyway. This would be child’s play compared to what was in store for me tomorrow, so it was best just to get it over with. That had always been my motto in life. If I’d been afraid of something or someone, I always met the fear head-on. One day, it probably would get me killed.
I pushed my coffee cup to the left of me and sat my forearm across the table. Starting from my elbow, I quickly drew a long dribble of wax all the way to my wrist before the holder was snatched away from me. I didn’t have to look at James to know I’d shocked him. He’d expected me to drip a few little spots on my forearm, whimper prettily, and brush away a few tears. That was not how tomorrow was going to play out.
Blowing upon the meandering path of wax that decorated my arm, I watched it solidify from a clear liquid into a thick, white, raised line. It had stung on impact, but that was about the extent of my discomfort. There was no lingering burn, and unless I was much mistaken, it wouldn’t leave a mark. Peeling off a section in my fingertips, I discovered my judgement was correct. There wasn’t even the slightest pink tinge to my alabaster flesh. I smiled.
The smile was wiped off my face in an instant. James had grabbed hold of my wrist, and with his other hand he quickly stripped off the rest of the wax. His grip was like cold steel - hard, inflexible, and unforgiving.
“That was incredibly stupid,” he barked. “Everyone will react differently to hot wax, which is why you test a few drops first, as I did. What were you trying to prove, exactly?”
I had to force myself to look at him. “You said that I was to dribble wax…”
“No, you said that, and you knew what I meant. You’re not an idiot, so don’t even try to play that card.”
“Fine. I wanted to see what it felt like, and I don’t tend to do things half-assed. It stings a little, but I’d hardly call it arousing.” I looked at him crossly. The cold eyes before me had not an ounce of warmth in them.
He clucked his tongue as he reined in his temper. “I think I’m going to like you much better when you’re tied up and gagged.” The look he gave me was reflective, and I knew it wasn’t just my body that he wanted naked before him.
“You say the nicest things,” I replied, refusing to take the bait.
“Speaking of nice things,” he said, “I guess I owe you your end of the bargain. You want the naughty girl scenario, right?” He slowly eased his grip on my wrist and gently ran his fingers down the inside of my forearm. Ten thousand butterflies fluttered beneath my skin, but I dared not snatch my hand away. I was far too curious.
“Yes,” I whispered, already imagining myself on the exam table he had mentioned earlier, with my wrists and ankles immobilised, and my legs spread wide in the stirrups. It was strangely both erotic and captivating.
“Medical play is always good fun for shock value. There’s nothing quite like a table full of medical implements to scare a submissive witless. Some subbies love a good mind fuck, and if that’s what they’re aiming for, I can usually deliver. It can play out one of two ways. I can either perform an intimate medical exam by playing the role of a doctor, or I can concentrate on things like needle play and minor procedures.”
“Minor procedures?” I swallowed over the thick lump that had formed in my throat.
“Piercings, tattoos, suturing, needle corsets. Piercing the skin with a needle triggers lots of lovely hormones such as adrenaline and endorphins. Some submissives find this kind of play intensely pleasurable.” My eyes widened at the list he had just rattled off. Perhaps I should have paid a little more attention to that sheet of limits I’d been handed.
“You have no idea what a pleasure it will be working with someone who will allow me so much freedom in my pursuits.”
The scope of what I’d just granted him was now beginning to dawn on me. I had been a little generous. Perhaps I should take another look at the form.
“I’m curious,” I whispered, mostly because his continued stroking was playing havoc on my body. “Which aspects of BDSM do you perform?”
He took the palm of my left hand and began massaging my index finger. It was a strange feeling, but not unpleasant. “I like the hardcore aspects, which is why you got me when you booked ‘The Ultimate Guide to Pain.’ The more sensual aspects are performed by some local dominants and dommes that I employ.”
“What do you consider sensual?” I was very interested in the answer - mostly because I wanted to know what kind of things he didn’t particularly relish doing.
He waved his free hand in the air in a desultory manner and laughed. “Lacy blindfolds, aromatherapy massage, heart-shaped paddles, and fluffy cuffs. To each their own, but my sessions tend to be a little more intense. I don’t usually deal with newbies. You might be the exception to that rule, but only because my curiosity has gotten the better of me.”
“So the more intense a scene, the better, from your point of view?” He was working his way through my fingers, and the feeling was actually quite pleasurable now. My hand was feeling warm, loose, and relaxed. When he occasionally flicked his thumb over the pulse point in my wrist, I had to bite down to stop a moan from escaping.
“Yes. As I’ve mentioned before, I want to break you. I want you screaming down the walls for mercy because the thought of another orgasm is as terrifying as it is pleasurable. I want to take you to your absolute limit and force you past it, to a world you never thought you could enter. I’ll push your boundaries and you’ll see stars, but with any luck you’ll want more. Ninety-nine percent of the women who see me are repeat visitors, and I have one of the best reputations in the business. I’m careful with my research and pretty good at figuring out what makes people tick.”
“And have you found out what makes me tick?”
“Not yet, but I’ve barely even started. Rest assured, I will.”
His voice held a worrying degree of certainty behind it.