Dirty Little Deal

Her eyes dropped along with her chin, then lifted, her eyes blazing. "I am not a slut, I am not for public display, for just anyone to enjoy."

Damn him. Because she was that woman we saw earlier in that she needed to be forced to confront her desires, to be forced to recognize them. But she wasn't ready for the likes of a man like him. I wasn't either, but the rules of the dungeon didn't prohibit anyone from watching.

She looked at the watching man and marched to the bag at the edge of the tarp, unzipping it. She had the shirt out when I reached her and laid a hand on her arm.

"What has happened here that is so unbearable?"

"He saw you touch me."

In a way it was exciting that he saw me with her. He wanted her, but I had her. He could watch me enjoy her, but that was all he could do. I glanced at him and my lip wanted to curl before I turned back to her.

"He saw me touch Cara Mia. He saw her take pleasure from that touch. Nothing horrible has happened."

"But he saw."

"He saw a man give pleasure to a woman. An anonymous woman wearing a mask."

She looked down at the shirt.

"Would you throw everything away because a man saw Cara Mia enjoy her lover's touch?"

She swallowed as she thought about my words. Then she dropped the shirt back in the bag, and said, "That Cara Mia," her teeth catching at her lower lip. "She must really love you."

It was my turn to swallow hard. "As much as I love her," I said, brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek.

She walked back to her mat, each step deliberate. She stood facing away from me. A wonderful signal, I thought, to tell me that she was ready to proceed. Even if she was hedging by facing the wall.

When I stepped in front of her, I put my index finger under her chin. She was sweating, her face streaked with tears that come as she walked to the mat, her lipstick smeared from the kissing. My heart went out to her even as my dick leaped in my pants.

How beautiful she was, torn by passion, and fighting her head for control of her body. "Don't let anything stand in the way of releasing that glorious passion."

She shook her head hard. "You're asking too much."

"Your body tells me you're lying. I know you've enjoyed some of it." I brushed over her thong. "Your snatch is swollen and wet. All these feelings, they can be turned to increase your pleasure. Own them, acknowledge them, and enjoy what we do here."

She shook her head, unable or unwilling to accept my words.

Chapter 11

I swore I wouldn't wheedle, and kept my voice even. "Cara Mia, think of it. No one knows you here, no one sees anything but a woman and a man enjoying themselves. Even if they did see your face, the rules of this community forbid any unbidden mention of this life, the things that happen here. In public."

She shook her head again, but more hesitantly, her chin quivering. I believed she wanted to be convinced, to not let our relationship end.

Kissing her, I felt the tension in her back, the muscles tight under my fingers as I massaged and worked the knots. She relaxed a bit and I pulled her hips to me again so she could see how much I wanted her.

When I felt her worm against me, I asked, "Shall we continue?"

She moaned, in a quandary.

"It is hard, I know. Rules have held you tight. But Cara Mia isn't bound by them. Only by her own desires. I love you. I want to release you. And I swear with all my heart I will let nothing harm you."

A tear ran out from under the mask, leaving a black trail down her cheek. I wasn't sure if I had broken her or relieved her.

"Will you continue?" I asked.

"Do I have to turn around?"

"You must confront all the hindrances that keep your passion bound."

She growled, but allowed me to turn her around. The man was still there, watching. I wondered what he thought. She sucked in a breath and stood tall as she faced him.

I breathed across her neck, ruffling the hair and raising a rash of goose bumps that trailed down her arms. Nonchalantly, I kissed her neck, caressing her arms with my fingertips.

She had expected that I would force the reveal, but I gave her easy pleasure, nothing untoward, until she relaxed, becoming, if not comfortable with her position, then, at least finding terms she could accept.

"How do you feel, Cara Mia?"

"Embarrassed, humiliated." She paused as my kisses forced an indrawn breath that ended in a moan. "And...turned on. More than I would have thought possible."

"Very good. I am so pleased and I love you more for the admission."

I released her arms and I slid around her until I pressed against her back, my hands tracing their way around her front, hugging. She laid her hands on my forearms, lightly, stroking over the dark hairs that lay there.

When she laid her head back on my shoulder, I took it as permission to move on. My hands opened the dress to the air, the man's enjoyment, to Cara Mia's entrance.

With a moan that sounded more like a woman surrendering everything, she squared her shoulders and stood straight, her arms falling to her side as she took refuge behind the domino, the name, the thought of what was at stake.

I whispered, "Brave Cara Mia," in her ear. She considered it, looked to Don Coil, and she sighed, resigned. My heart lurched. I wanted not resignation, but an embrace of her body, the pleasures I evoked, and the opportunities we could find there.

I wanted her to stop this ridiculous adherence to rules that served to do nothing but keep all that passion bottled up where it did no one any good.

Sadness washed over me, which made me angry at my failure. Perhaps I was wrong. She couldn't overcome the stupid rules that kept her so bound up.

But she hadn't let them go. She just kept holding on to them, like she was adrift in a sea of passion and they were her life preserver. I think she was afraid of what would happen if she dove straight down into the heart of all that passion.

I had to tear her away from that, force her to swim free in all of that hunger, that warmth she felt, sail away with me on a tide of pleasure.

With a harsh cry, I pulled the edges hard, and they tore, catching on the Mandarin collar and following the seam around her neck.

Stepping back, I pivoted her to see the full extent of my work. Her eyes were wide, the whites gleaming in the dull light, her hair escaping the clips that held it in place, her face smeared with black.

The dress barely hung by the shoulder seams, the neckline looking like an elegant collar on a beautiful woman, ripe and ready for the taking.

I pulled her to me roughly, feeling her cool flesh against the smooth softness of my shirt. I rubbed against her, the mounds of her breasts mashing against my chest. My dick lurched in my pants and I held her hips to me tightly, feeling the surge of pleasure as my hips rocked in small movements against her.

Her muscles worked under my hands as she met my strokes. I wanted to fuck h

er, fuck her hard, fuck her amidst the grotty concrete walls with the screams of pain and pleasure rising up around us.

I wanted to fuck her in the remains of the dress I had bought her, the dress I had cut and torn to reveal the woman I knew was there.

I stepped back, breathing hoarsely, concentrating on not coming, on not stepping forward and finishing the job I had started on her dress so that I could have her, here, now.

I heard boot steps and looked to see Master Louis approaching. He didn't look to me, but watched Cara Mia.

Chapter 12

She started to pull her dress together, but paused, and then nodded to him. He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes flicking to me and then back to her, questioning. She nodded again, gave him a little smile and offered a hand to me.

I met her eyes, unbelieving that she would be so forward, then took it, and she pulled me to her for a kiss that traveled down to my neck, then boldly reached a hand for my cock, a place she had never ventured before, preferring to allow me all the liberties.

She cupped my balls, running a nailed finger up the length of my cock. Her skin was hot where I slipped my hands beneath the shredded dress. My hands fit perfectly around the sides of her waist, resting on her flared hips.

It was time. I pulled her with me as I walked back to the back corner of our space, then turned her. She looked at me, questioning as I pushed her forward until she spread her hands against the wall. The red tips of her nails stood out, shockingly bright against the dull gray of the concrete walls. Her bracelet caught bits of light and twinkled gaily.

I lifted her hips.

"Wait," she said, and kicked off the heels. "Ahhh," she groaned. "Much better." I wished I could bring the mat to her, but realized it would ruin the moment. She shook her feet out and flexed her toes before taking up her position again.

"Cara Mia, you are so beautiful in this moment. I will never forget it."

Indeed, the torn dress fell away like a stage curtain revealing the lines of her ass, the knots in the backs her legs, the arch of her back. If I painted, I would have sketched it and called it, "Lines of Desire".