Thoroughly Whipped

He must have read the fear in my taut body as he said, “This was not on your list, mon petit chaton. If it is not on the list, then everything else is bon. Do you not remember what I told you last night?”

“Yes, Maître. But I didn’t see anything like that in my research.” I felt his hand skim among my lower back and drop to my right ass cheek.

“Ready?” he said.

I was frozen. I wanted to open my mouth to say something, but I couldn’t move my lips. I was too out of my depth in this place. I breathed hard, bracing for pain.

Suddenly, Maître’s hand left me and he was in front of me. He bent down until I was staring cautiously into his silver eyes. The corner of his lips hooked up in amusement. I frowned in confusion. “Mon petit chaton,” he said and ran his hand through my hair. “Your list was the most amusing thing I have seen in a very long time.”

“I…w-what?” I stuttered.

“We,” he circled his finger in the air, “are a sex club. A hedonistic heaven built for the pleasure of fucking and orgasms, not pain and sadism. This,” he said, lifting the spiked baseball bat so I could see it, “is merely for decoration purposes, d’accord? Activities such as these are banned. There are other more…specific clubs in New York for those with that preference.”

“There were people downstairs…”

“Role-play.” He shrugged. “Some light bondage and flogging, but none to cause real pain. Being flogged or caned doesn’t have to be a painful experience, rather one to set your senses on fire and bring your pleasure to new heights. Some of the people you saw downstairs were my employees. Ma chérie, they are here to arouse the crowd, to help members feel safe to let go and give themselves over to their carnal needs and wants. Tell me, did they arouse you? Did you get wet watching them scream?”

“It was…intriguing. I suppose it would all depend on the person doing it to me.”

Maître tilted his head to the side. “What about me?” he said and ran the tip of his finger over my erect nipple. I gasped, cold shivers shaking my body at that miniscule touch of affection.

“Yes, Maître.” And it was true. I was so attracted to this mysterious man, I would gladly take it.

He lifted the list. “I shall keep this as a souvenir. Some activities to investigate, I think.”

His smirk dropped, the serious Maître resuming control, and he placed the torture device back on the wall. “My intention with you, mon petit chaton, is to have you screaming through the night because I am fucking you, or licking you, or making you fall apart. I have no desire to permanently mark this beautiful olive skin.” Maître came to me, and I couldn’t help staring at his huge length underneath his silk pajamas.

I jumped, gasping, when Maître’s hands smoothed over my behind, one hand on each cheek. “This leather lingerie on you…” He trailed off, his voice dropping an octave. I bit my lip so I didn’t moan out loud when he traced every inch of my cheeks and upper thighs with his skillful, yet gentle, hands.

“If it makes you feel better about things, you can have a safe word, mon petit chaton.” I felt him move between my spread legs, legs that were wide open for his viewing.

My face blazed in need. Heat smothered my back, and I suddenly felt his erection pressing against me. I sucked in a sharp breath when his chest met my back and his masked cheek met my cheek. It was a heady yet erotic sensation being held in stocks, unable to move, while a man well over six feet tall sprawled across me.

“So, what shall it be? Do you want a safe word? But remember, in NOX, you just have to say stop and I will stop.” He pressed a warm kiss to my neck. My bones turned to liquid at the feel of him taking control, at his soft lips caressing my throat.

“No, Maître. No safe word necessary,” I said, fighting a moan, and his teeth bit down on my earlobe. He began rolling his hips, creating a delicious kind of friction, then moved down my back until I felt his hot breath at my clit.

“If there’s no need for a safe word, then I’ll just proceed with fucking you instead.”

In seconds, I felt the first swipe of his tongue run from my entrance to my clit. I moaned as he delved back in, his hands pulling my lips apart as he sucked and flicked my clit with his tongue. I moaned, unable to move with the straps on my ankles and my hands and my head fastened in the stocks. My eyes rolled back, and my mouth parted just searching for the breath that Maître was stealing with his hot touch.