Blinking hard, I break the hold she has over me, searching for the right words. I need to please her in this moment. But I’m already so lost to her. “You should expect members to behave appropriately. At the very least. You’re not doing anything wrong by being here, watching. That’s what this room is all about. He knows the rules.” I nod my head toward the black wall, where submissives are lined up in knelt positions. “You’re not on your knees. You’re not asking to be dominated. There’s always a bad apple, and it just looks like one found you.”
Long eyelashes frame widening eyes. She’s staring right into the depths of me. “Don’t blame the victim,” she says, her voice throaty. “I know that by heart. You’d think I’d believe it by now.”
I feel my brows furrow slightly. It’s as if she’s talking more to herself than me, but I tuck this interesting morsel of information away. “That’s right. Now,” I say, moving a fraction closer. “I’m technically off work. So I’d like to help you get back to enjoying yourself.”
The thin column of her throat bobs on a swallow. “I’m not into…”
“Shh,” I say. “I won’t lay a hand on you. I won’t touch you. And I can leave…if that makes you more comfortable.” I pause, praying that my goddess doesn’t send me away. When she doesn’t speak up immediately, I push on. “I only want to see that look in your eyes, that passion on your face—the one you wore just moments before that rude interruption.”
I watch as her breathing quickens. The tremble of her red, red lips. “No touching?” she questions.
My pulse speeds. “Only if you ask. Always, only if you ask.”
She continues to stare at me in guarded fascination, the seconds suspending us in our own sphere of heat and caution. And when she gives a sure nod, I’m lit with fire.
As she swivels on the stool to face the stage, I peer down at her. Amazed at this stunning creature I’ve somehow discovered. I pull another stool up close behind her, take my seat. Her shoulders tense as my thighs and body cage her in from behind. I can feel her body heat radiating off her, caressing me, beckoning me. Her fragrance of sweet-scented shampoo and body lotion fills my senses, tantalizing.
Slowly, carefully, I lower my head next to hers. As close to her as I can get without touching. With difficulty, I aim my attention toward the stage. The Dom is placing nipple clamps on the sub, her high-pitched moans piercing the charged air between us.
&
nbsp; “Do you know why he connects the chain to her mouth gag?” My words slip past my lips in a whispered plea.
She remains silent, her gaze steady on the scene. A slight shake of her head invites me to continue, and my dick swells.
“It heightens her desire. Her awareness.” I breathe her in, a glutton, needing to satisfy my senses. “It also heightens her suffering, increasing his pleasure.” As the flogger makes contact against the sub’s stomach, she jerks her head, pulling the chain taut. “He’s punishing her for moving, but that sharp spike of pain gives her so much pleasure…that she can’t help but be disobedient. She needs the punishment almost as much as she needs the release—the gratification.”
My gaze flicks lower as my goddess clamps her thighs together. I bite down on my bottom lip, inducing a slight pain to keep my emotions in check, my head clear. The need to slip my arms around her and hike up that damn dress…spread those legs wide…is almost unbearable. I grip my jeans near my knees, clenching the rough material, to keep my hands from roaming.
This—it’s not nearly enough. But as the wisps of her hair caress my cheek, hinting at her trembling body, I revel in this profound moment my goddess is gifting me. To indulge in her—to enter into her sanctity. She’s my temple and I’m her slave, willing to kneel before her on command.
And as she tentatively runs a finger along her thigh, drawing up the hem of her dress, sliding her hand between her thighs…God. The anguish is pure hell. A torment so divine I nearly come loose at the threads.
I will beg for more.
I’m not ashamed to own it—to confess what I’ve been craving for months.
“Can you feel what she feels?” I ask, my voice husky with restrained want.
I watch her tongue slip out to wet her lips as she gazes at the scene, and I grit my teeth. The sub—now sated from her penance—throws her head back in bliss. The Dom hikes one of her legs over his shoulder as he kneels before her, devouring her. Taking her into his mouth with unguarded vigor.
“She’s stripped raw, laid bare…” I whisper. “She’s utterly vulnerable to him. Having submitted her whole being over to him, she’s now free to indulge in the ecstasy that comes from that liberating release of control.”
She shudders next to me, and my eyes follow the trail of her hand upward. Farther and farther—so painstakingly slow—until she’s there. Her head lolls to the side, her eyes close, and we’re lost together as she caresses herself through the thin barrier of her black underwear.
“I wish I could have that…” she admits, so low. And my whole body is piqued, awaiting her next admission.
“What do you need?” I ask, my fingers curled so tightly around my jeans they ache, could shred the fuckers. My dick is so hard I swear it’s going to rip straight through my jeans.
“To be free,” she whispers.
I squeeze my eyes closed against the severe quake that her softly spoken words elicit. “Slide your panties aside.”
I’m just in control enough to open my eyes and witness her obeying my order. A primal need to throw her down and ravish her—right here; right now—barrels through me.
“Push inside. Deep. Until it aches.” God, but she does. Holy hell she spreads those sweet thighs and sinks her finger inside until I hear her desperate moan. “Fucking move your hips. Go deeper…”
A shrill moan resounds around us, and the spell is broken. Her eyes fly open and she stares at the stage, to where the sub is coming with a fierce and quivering pleasure as she pulls at her restraints.